


Rooftop Girl

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Rights, F/M, Fluff, Protests, Reader Has A Name, Smut, Unconventional meet-cute, and lyra just wants to be happy, connor cares a lot, longfic, things get happier don't worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-23 13:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20340874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Love blooms on the edge of a high rise.A series of seemingly fated meetings.Something is changing in Detroit.





	1. Night #1

“There’s a high probability of death should you fall - you shouldn’t stand so close to the edge.”  
  
Over the rush of the cars below, the night air whipping around her ears, she heard him speak. Faintly, almost like it was a daydream. Slowly, Lyra peeled her eyes from the lights of the street seventy floors below and turned to face him.   
  
The android - she realized this when she spotted the faint blue glow of an LED - stood a few paces away, regarding her silently. Chocolate hair and espresso eyes. A smattering of freckles over his synthetic skin. _ Business casual, _ Lyra thought, taking in his attire, and had to stifle a nervous, almost hysterical laugh that bubbled in her throat.   
  
“That’s the idea,” She rasped, and cleared her throat, barely catching the yellow flicker of his LED before she turned back to face the yawning expanse of building below. “You think it’ll hurt?” Lyra’s voice wavered as she stared at the tips of her shoes, poking out meekly from the concrete and over the edge; she hated the weakness beginning to eat away at her nerves.   
  
The android said nothing, but she heard him take a few steps forward until he stopped somewhere behind her.   
“For a moment.” He stated in an almost cordial tone before leaning forward to enter her line of sight. Nervously, she glanced at him from her peripherals and realized he was holding a coin. He gestured with the hand holding the coin and raised his brows as if to say _ watch this _ before tossing it over the edge of the building.   
  
Lyra watched it fall, fall, _ fall _ before it slipped out of her sight, too small to be detected anymore. Somehow not seeing it hit the ground made her feel worse. The vertigo began to set in and the world swam. She swayed, but he did not touch her.   
  
“It’s a long fall.” He murmured, seeming to fight some unseen battle of his own, watching over the edge along with her. Again, though her vision was slightly blurred, she looked at him from her peripherals.   
  
“Yeah.” Lyra replied dumbly, feeling herself sway harder. Her resolve was weakening in favor of fear, coiled in her stomach. She’d taken too long, just as she had the night before, and the one before that. The world’s drunken spin began to slow, and she stepped back from the edge of the roof, stumbling into a large plant that had been situated to the side. Part of the rooftop garden, she thought numbly.   
  
“Are you alright?” The android asked her, stepping toward her and offering his hand. Lyra recoiled, knowing she was halfway hysterical but unable to control it.   
  
“ _ Don’t touch me!” _ She snarled, and it was the android’s turn to shrink back - but only slightly.   
  
“It’s alright,” He said softly, LED a vibrant yellow. He was a few steps further away now but still offering his hand. “You’re back on solid ground. Please take a moment to recover.”   
  
The blood coursed through Lyra’s ears, her pulse seeming to thrum from every part of her body. Fed up with feeling weak, she stood, and immediately the garden started to spin. Lyra reached out, trying to find purchase on some kind of surface, and felt nothing. _ I’m going to faint and fall onto the concrete and bust my head open, _ she thought with a well-practiced detachment. _ I guess that wouldn’t be too bad. _   
She reached one final time forward, expecting to feel nothing, but was surprised by a cool hand slipping into hers and yanking out of her fall. Lyra yelped and the world slid back into focus along with the stab of pain she felt at her shoulder.   
  
“I apologize. That was a bit rough, but you came close to fainting. You would have injured yourself.” Lyra looked at her hand numbly, and at the hand enclosing hers, before blinking up at the android in front of her. An awkward silence floated between the two of them and he gently took back his hand. He straightened his tie, which was a pleasing shade of navy ( _ he looks good in blue, _ Lyra thought absentmindedly) and gave her a very slight smile. His eyes were kind and soft, almost warm.   
“My name is Connor,” He stated in what Lyra thought was a very pleasing, diplomatic tone. “And you? What is _ your _ name?” He blinked gently at her, tilting his head.   
  
Lyra purposely ignored the question (not without feeling slightly guilty; this _ Connor _ had very good manners) and instead deflected it. Her voice came soft after a pause.   
“Your name is Irish. It means _ ‘strong-willed’ _ ... _ ‘wise’ _ .”   
  
“It can also mean _ ‘lover of hounds’ _ , so I suppose it’s an apt name.” Connor gave an almost sly smile before it softened and he offered his hand once more. “Let me take you downstairs. I’d rather not leave you alone up here.”   
  
Lyra shook her head in response and slowly made her way to the small square in the center of the garden, stabilizing herself on the square gardens and retaining walls as she went; Connor trailed behind her at a reasonable distance and it occurred to her how nice it was to be near someone so focused on respecting boundaries. She finally reached the wicker couches in the center and sat down on one. The cream colored cushions and pillows had become so familiar to her now that they almost felt like her own bed and she felt struck by how _ lonely _ and _ pathetic _ that seemed.   
  
“You don’t want to leave?” Connor asked, tilting his head once more, settling on the arm of a couch across from the one Lyra sat on. “Aren’t you tired?”   
  
“Oh, unbelievably,” Lyra laughed bitterly. “But I don’t want to go home.” Connor leaned in then and frowned, seeming concerned.   
  
“Are you being harmed?” He asked, and she had to marvel at his obviously sophisticated social programming for a moment.   
  
“No, no. Nothing like that,” Lyra responded, meeting his eyes. They glinted softly in the amber of the string lights that hung over the garden. _ Curious. _ He seemed so very curious. “I just don’t like being at home. I want to be alone for a while.” Connor seemed satisfied with her answer, at least for the moment, and leaned back again.   
  
“I won’t press you on it,” He murmured before rising to his feet. “But I hope you’ll be alright here alone.”   
“I think I’ve lost my nerve for tonight,” Lyra grinned hollowly at him, watching a small frown etch back into his features. “So, don’t worry. I’ll be fine until tomorrow night.”   
  
Connor moved to the exit, slowly and evenly - no movement wasted. Graceful, Lyra thought, watching him turn back to her one more time. His LED sparkled golden in the dark and it was easy to tell what he was thinking, however enigmatic he seemed otherwise. It almost seemed as though he regretted leaving her here; as though he wasn’t completely convinced she wouldn’t just jump after he left. Connor raised his brows, letting out a soft sigh of resignation, and met her eyes.   
  
“Then,” He called quietly, gently tilting his head to the side.   
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Rooftop Girl.”   
  
Lyra felt her eyebrows shoot up, and despite the situation she’d only just recovered from, blood rushed to her cheeks. She could only sit in wonder and nod dumbly at him. Connor turned away after giving a polite wave, and exited.

‘ _ I should’ve jumped when I had the chance…’  _


	2. Night #2

“Hello again.”   
  
Lyra jolted, nearly falling from the ledge, and turned her head to face the owner of that unmistakable voice - Connor. The android from the night before. He was very pleasing to the eye tonight, even in the dark; dressed in a navy suit jacket, matching tie and crisp white shirt - complete with shined black dress shoes peeking out from under a dark pair of jeans. Lyra gulped reflexively and turned away from him once more, concentrating hard on the cars below.   
  
“I’m focusing. Go away.” She felt bad about being so cold towards him, but it was the only way she had a chance of getting over the edge tonight. She couldn’t lose her nerve again, not when she was  _ so close _ . The wind blew her hair into hair face and she sputtered, irritated.   
Connor hummed softly but was otherwise silent, venturing closer. Lyra watched him in her peripherals and couldn’t help but want to talk to him. She cursed her curiosity, and his seemingly magnetic presence. “...What are you doing here?”   
  
Connor turned to her, eyes gentle.    
“I told you I would see you tonight,” He said, voice so soft that she could barely hear it over the wind. “Didn’t I?”   
“Well, you’re making it pretty hard to jump off of this fucking roof, Connor.” Lyra gritted her teeth and positioned herself as if she were getting ready to jump, body tensing. Her knees began to shake. Connor watched her silently and she noticed his LED flickering between yellow and blue. Absently, she wondered what that meant.    
  
“You should get down from there. I’m sure that, whatever is wrong, it can be fixed.”   
Though Connor’s voice was gentle, an anger welled up within Lyra, and she whipped around to face him with a ferocity that surprised even her.   
“You  _ presumptuous  _ -”   
“Please, be careful!”   
  
Lyra stayed upright just long enough to see Connor’s eyes go wide, his LED flicker red-yellow-red before she stepped backwards reflexively, feeling the world fall from under her feet.   
  
_ This is it,  _ Lyra thought.  _ This is what I wanted. And now… _ __   
__   
Lyra let out a ghost of a scream before she was jolted into place, feet slanted against the corner of the building. Connor’s pale hand clutched at her shirt collar, holding it with enough force that the back of it burned her neck. Wind rushed and whistled around her and she slowly looked up at him, eyes wide.   
  
Connor mirrored her, standing tall at the edge of the high rise - deep brown eyes wide, LED flashing red, his hair whipping back from his forehead in the wind.   
  
Time stood still.   
  
After what seemed like hours, Connor gently pulled her in by the collar of her shirt, bracing his other hand on the small of her back when she was close enough. As soon as she was back over the ledge, Lyra clutched at his jacket and let out an inhuman sob. No longer coherent, she buried her face into Connor’s shirt and cried hysterically, dimly aware of how  _ insane  _ she probably looked.    
  
“It’s alright,” Connor hushed, bringing her close. Even through her hoarse sobs, Lyra could tell he was tense - stiff almost, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do. “You didn’t fall. You’re alright.”   
  
Somehow, that broke through the haze of panic.   
  
“Why did you catch me?” Lyra’s voice, muffled in his shirt.   
“I couldn’t just stand there and let you die, could I?” Soft and clear and almost matter-of-fact.   
“You could have.” Lyra whispered, and she felt him shake his head.   
  
Lyra’s knees buckled and Connor gently caught her before they gave out completely, the two of them slowly sinking to a sitting position on the concrete. They sat quietly together for so long that Lyra’s sense of time began to wane.    
  
“I think I should go home,” Lyra whispered, moving from Connor’s embrace. “I’m sorry.”   
“For what?” Connor asked quietly, tilting his head at her as she rose shakily to her feet.    
“...I don’t know,” She mumbled, looking back to the edge of the building. After a pregnant pause, she muttered, “I don’t think you should come back here again.”   
  
Connor was silent for so long that her gaze pulled back to him. His LED glowed yellow in the dark, and he was frowning deeply, looking down at the rooftop. Finally, he looked up to her, eyes glossy in the low light. Still, he said nothing.   
  
Somehow his expression communicated  _ disappointment _ . Lyra felt tears prick hotly at the corners of her eyes.   
“I’m so sorry,” She mumbled. “Really. But I think you should just forget about me. I’ll be gone one of these days, and you seem like a really caring person. Find someone to help who isn’t too far gone to accept it.”   
  
Connor remained silent, continuing to study her - scrutinize her. Lyra grew uneasy. He looked downtrodden, but she couldn’t figure out why. “What are you thinking about?” She murmured, frowning down at him.   
  
A long pause.   
  
“What is your name?” Connor asked quietly, looking up at her with such  _ sad  _ eyes and with a slight desperation in his voice that caught her off guard. A tear rolled down her cheek, burning on the way down and leaving a cold trail in its wake.    
  
“...Lyra.” She whispered, feeling her heart take a nervous leap when his eyes widened. “My name is Lyra.”   
  
“ _ Lyra _ .” Connor mumbled, looking down and then back up at her again - seeming almost mystified. Her heart leapt again, hearing him say her name with what could almost be described as a sense of reverence.   
  
Connor stood, taking a step back so as to not invade Lyra’s space (which she was growing increasingly appreciative of) and met her eyes.   
  
“Lyra,” He spoke, clear and calm. “I will see you tomorrow night.”   
  
A short-lived idea of protesting seeped into her mind before it was dispelled. Lyra turned to leave, walking away before looking back at him once more when she reached the door to the interior of the high rise. She was greeted by the broad expanse of his shoulders, farther away now, turned away from her. He had turned now towards the edge of the roof, but was not looking down.   
  
He was looking  __ up.  She followed his gaze, noticed the smattering of stars flecked across the sky, and felt as if the lump she had in her throat would be permanent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I know I said I'd update every week, but I really like writing these two and I can't wait for them to get close to each other.
> 
> Some pretty scary stuff this chapter! That Lyra's a tough nut to crack but adapting to human unpredictability is one of Connor's features. ;)
> 
> Leave me some comments! Give me some criticism!
> 
> I love you all <3


	3. Night #3

Another night, another half-hearted attempt on her life.    
  
Lyra heaved the door to the rooftop open, the cool night air meeting her face. She sighed softly and began poking her way to the edge of the roof before she registered movement in her peripherals. Jolting, she turned - meeting Connor’s downcast eyes. He held a thick hardcover book between his hands and was sprawled across one of the wicker couches at the center of the rooftop garden. He looked rather comfortable - tie loosened and sleeves rolled - and she felt a fleeting pang of jealousy, wishing she could be half as relaxed. He began to read.   
  
“The name  _ Lyra  _ is of Greek origin, from the word ‘lyre’. It is also a small constellation, recognized by the International Astronomical Union.” He looked over to her, eyes alight with amusement, or possibly even mischief. Lyra stood, dumbfounded. “Did I startle you?”   
  
“No,” Lyra couldn’t help pouting a bit. “I just didn’t know you were gonna get here before me.”   
“Is that okay?” Connor asked, leaning his head on his hand and giving her a slight smile.   
“I guess,” Lyra huffed and cast her eyes downward, making her way to the couches. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, fishing one out and lighting it. “It just ruined my plan, is all.”

“Seems to be happening quite often lately.” Was that a hint of smugness in his voice? Lyra almost scolded him, but it had been an exhausting day. At this point, she didn’t even have the energy to walk to the edge of the roof. Connor raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you smoked.”   
  
“Dealbreaker?” She asked dryly, giving him a sarcastic glance before taking a drag.   
“Not hardly,” He returned, just as dry, before slipping the book onto the small wicker coffee table. Lyra heaved a sigh and sat on the couch directly across from Connor’s. The playful glint left his eyes and he looked to her, expression morphing into a concerned frown. He lowered his voice. “You seem tired.”   
  
She laughed, bitterly.  _ Oh, honey. You have no idea.  _ Connor rose from his sprawled position and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. LED spiraled yellow. The phrase  _ undivided attention  _ flicked through Lyra’s mind. “...Yes, Connor?”   
  
“I think we should talk.” His voice came clear and confident - probably knowing her reaction before she gave it to him. Lyra groaned and flopped back onto the couch, folding her forearm over her eyes.   
“What, is the psychiatrist in?” She mumbled, huffing a laugh.   
“Precisely,” Connor murmured with such seriousness that she uncovered her eyes, turning to meet his intense gaze. “I want to know more about you.”   
“How romantic.”    
“That’s not what this is about.”   
“You sure? Think I see you blushing.”   
“You most definitely do not.  _ Lyra _ ,” Connor prodded, leaning forward more, giving off an air of almost irritation. “I know what you’re doing, but I really want to talk to you.”   
  
Whoops. Connor was a little more keen than she originally thought. Lyra slid her forearm over her eyes once more, relaxing into the couch cushions and taking another drag from her cigarette. It was silent between the two of them now, but not uncomfortable. She felt an expectant air coming off of him in waves and briefly wondered if androids could have auras, just as people do.   
  
“Things aren’t so great at home,” Lyra muttered, with great difficulty. “And everyone is wrapped up in their own shit, so I don’t really have anywhere to, um…”  _ Articulate, Lyra, articulate,  _ she thought, impatient with herself almost instantly.   
“To unload?” Connor nudged, soft encouragement in his voice.   
“Yeah,” Lyra mumbled. “I don’t wanna bother anybody with it.”   
“It’s unhealthy to retain such stress. Not only can it lead to undiagnosed mental health issues such as depression or anxiety, but it can encourage cardiovascular disruptions - stroke, arrhythmia, high blood pressure, and even heart attacks.”   
“Having a heart attack would make things  _ so  _ much easier. I wouldn’t even have to think about jumping off of a building.”   
“What exactly is happening at home? Why don’t you give me just a rudimentary idea; you don’t have to go into personal details, if it’s too much for you.”   
  
Ah. Into the thick of everything. Lyra uncovered her eyes once more, glancing at Connor. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, elbows on his knees. Relaxed posture.    
Her mind blanked on problems at home for a moment and took a second to take him in; dark hair slightly mussed from the wind, gentle cocoa-colored eyes glinting from the strands of fairy lights hung over the garden. His suit jacket - slate grey tonight - was discarded, folded neatly over the back of the couch along with a black tie. White shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Denim jeans. A pair of black suspenders, with… a holster? Was that a gun holster?   
  
_ Packing heat,  _ Lyra thought, and something about that made a wave of heat rush to her extremities. She met his eyes again and found him glancing at her expectantly, but patiently.    
  
“Sorry,” She muttered, turning her face away to hide the blush that burned her cheeks. “Got distracted.”   
“It’s perfectly fine,” Connor answered softly, almost knowingly, but didn’t tease her, for which she was grateful. “Why don’t we continue with our earlier train of thought?”    
Lyra remained silent, pondering, and Connor added, quietly, “Your cigarette has gone out.”   
She glanced at it and made a disappointed noise, fishing in her pockets for a lighter. After a rudimentary search, she looked down at her pockets, frowning.  _ I just had it,  _ she thought with a fresh wave of annoyance.  _ Where - _ __   
The telltale sound of a lighter click made her eyes shoot up from her search.    
  
“Is this what you’re looking for?” Connor raised a brow, holding out the lighter. It was lit, and Lyra realized numbly that he was offering to light her cigarette for her. She slipped it between her teeth and leaned forward, obliging.   
  
“What a gentleman,” She grinned after taking a drag, and Connor returned her lighter to the table in front of her. “Old-fashioned acts of chivalry make me feel some type of way.”   
“What way is that?” Connor asked, and for a moment, it seemed like he was flirting. But he was genuine, tilting his head ever so slightly, and she realized he truly didn’t understand.  _ Endearing. _   
“It’s just a figure of speech,” Lyra laughed. “It means you can’t really explain how it makes you feel, you just know it does.”   
Connor seemed to ponder this for a moment before making a soft sound of confirmation.    
“I see.”   
  
Lyra figured she’d strung him along far enough. He’d been patient and kind; didn’t give any kind of indication that she was stressing him with her problems.   
“...It started when my grandma’s health began to decline,” She murmured, her gaze locking onto his shoes. She heard him shift, almost to the point of perking up. Lyra glanced up at him and noticed his LED had gone yellow again, and he wore an expression of intent, seeming to hang on her words. She continued.    
  
“She’d had heart attacks before, but nothing like the last one. And she was in constant pain, so the doctors put her on morphine. And it just…” Lyra paused, feeling the familiar burn at the corners of her eyes. She tried to speak again and words wouldn’t come. For a reason she couldn’t quite understand, she looked to Connor, feeling desperate for some kind of help.   
  
“It took her?” He murmured gently, leaning in slightly, as if to say,  _ I’m here and I know what you’re trying to say, keep going.  _ She nodded, finding it difficult to speak over the lump in her throat. She took a drag from her cigarette, hoping it would help. Connor rose from his couch and sat at the end of hers instead, turning his body towards her, and she wondered how someone inhuman could be so good at body language.    
  
“I’m sorry.” She rasped, feeling the tears bead at her eyelashes.    
“It’s alright.” Connor murmured. “You two were close, weren’t you?”   
“We were best friends. Once she was gone, my family was reduced to two people.”   
“Your mother and father?”   
“Yes, but my dad’s never around. He moved when he and my mom got divorced.”   
“When was that?”   
“I was four. So, about twenty years ago.”   
“Do you still talk to him?”   
“Rarely. I cut my stepmom out of my life about a year ago, so that makes it harder.”   
“Why did you do that?”   
“She was a raging bitch. Really abusive.”   
“You made the right choice, even if it limits your relationship with your father.”   
  
It went on this way, for what seemed like hours. Lyra started from the beginning - her father cheated on her mother, they divorced, abusive stepmother, dead grandmother. Feeling left out, feeling stressed out, having relationships fall apart over and over. Feeling swallowed by everything - the passage of time, her inability to make decisions, her inability to form meaningful relationships. Anxieties. Depressions. And the entire time, Connor continued to ask questions ( _ When were you diagnosed? Why did you break up? Do you have coping mechanisms? Do you have someone else to talk to? Do you feel that you can be loved without being ‘useful’?). _ __   
__   
At the end of it all, it was almost two in the morning. The rush of cars that had started off as a dull roar at the beginning of the evening had quieted to an infrequent passerby. And over the course of the evening, Lyra and Connor had inched closer and closer to each other - she felt it had been a subconscious need for physical affection. She was seated directly beside him at the end, his jacket draped over her shoulders, their hands touching.    
  
“Did this help?” Connor asked, looking down at her. They were shoulder to shoulder, their feet resting on the edge of the coffee table. She gave him a half-hearted smile.    
“Maybe a little. But you’ll still probably find me here tomorrow night.”   
“I’ll count on it.”   
  
Their fingers softly intertwined, and for the first time in what felt like months, Lyra had a brief reprieve. 


	4. Night #4

Studio lights dyed different colors. Music pumping from a sound system across the garden. People, complete strangers, dancing. Alcohol freely pouring. Glitter shimmering on the concrete.  
  
This was not what Lyra expected when she entered the rooftop tonight; immediately a pit dropped into her stomach. _It isn’t your own private rooftop, _she thought with irritation. _Other people can use it._ Still, feeling as if she had nowhere to go, she weaved in and out of intoxicated strangers and found a seat on the wicker couches where she and Connor had sat quietly together the night before.  
  
Connor. Oh, boy. Lyra groaned softly, not even audible to herself over the thumping bass. She doubted she would see him tonight - or at the very least, they wouldn’t get much alone time together.   
_Alone time? _Lyra raised a brow at herself, making a frustrated noise. _Have you really grown that attached to him already? Lord. _  
  
Lyra fished a cigarette from the pack in her pocket and began to search for a lighter, knowing that nicotine was the only way she’d be able to stay at this party for much longer.  
_Click!___  
Raising an eyebrow in a sort of _what fresh hell is this_ manner, she looked up. A lit lighter, and the person holding it.  
  
“Connor,” Lyra breathed, the cigarette dropping from her mouth. “Oh -”   
Connor wordlessly bent to pick it up and Lyra watched, dumbfounded, as he nudged it between his lips and lit it.  
“I’m not sure if you enjoy the taste,” He said coolly, blowing the smoke as if he’d been doing it for years. “But I don’t think it’s for me.” He handed it to her, keeping his fingers situated just under the cherry to diminish the chances of her getting burned in the trade-off.  
Lyra stared at it dumbly for a moment before she gently took it, their fingers brushing. Something about watching him take a drag from her cigarette so _naturally, _so _nonchalantly,_ made her insides coil up and burn. _He has no right to look that good smoking.___  
Connor turned and sat next to her on the couch, adjusting his tie - he went with cerulean blue tonight, along with a slate dress shirt, black jacket and black jeans. He looked… _smooth. _Sleek. The coil grew tighter in the pit of Lyra’s stomach.  
  
“You’re quiet this evening. Has something happened, or is the party making you anxious?” Connor asked, looking to her cordially, as if he hadn’t even noticed her staring. Lyra’s eyes settled on his hematite tie clip.   
“Nothing happened,” Lyra murmured, watching it shine in the violet light. “I... Maybe I’m just tired.”  
“I’d imagine. I kept you for too long last night.” Connor leaned back, relaxing. “Are you planning on crashing this party for much longer?”  
“Only if _you_ are.”  
  
Connor’s brows shot up and she could swear a flush crept up his neck - or maybe it was only the lighting. _When did you get so flirty? So brave? _Lyra thought to herself, cursing inwardly. _Must you be so thirsty? Right now, of all times?_   
“Then, I suppose you’ll be here for a little while,” Connor replied, looking to her with an almost sly smile tugging at his lips. Mischief shone in his eyes. “Would you care for a drink?”   
It was Lyra’s turn to be surprised.   
“Are you offering to buy me a drink right now? You know that’s _super_ cliche, right?”  
“Cliche, possibly. But only because it seems to work for most.”  
Lyra pondered, looking down, before meeting his eyes.  
“Cosmopolitan.”  
“Done.”   
Connor rose from the couch and nodded to her once, as if to say _be right back_ before stepping forward and effortlessly weaving through the crowd. Lyra took a drag from her cigarette and watched him step up to the mini bar, gesturing to a bottle as he spoke, before pulling out his wallet and handing over a few dollar bills. He slipped the wallet into his back pocket and leaned nonchalantly against the bar, his eyes drifting to the festivities - namely, the dance floor. The bartender handed him the cosmo and a shot. Connor thanked him and made his way back over to her.  
  
“One Cosmopolitan,” He handed the pretty pink drink to her. “And one shot of vodka.” He kept that one.  
“You’re gonna drink it?” Lyra asked, gesturing to the shot. “I thought androids couldn’t eat or drink?”  
“I was a prototype, designed with a rudimentary sort of micro-digestion system. It’s typically used for my job, but I can use it for other things. As long as I don’t eat or drink too much, I’ll be fine.”  
Connor sat back down next to her as she took a drag from her cigarette and then sipped her drink.  
  
“Your job, huh? What do you do, Connor?” Lyra turned to him and he seemed surprised at the question, as if no one made it a habit to ask. He knocked back the shot, grimacing at the taste (he can _taste_ things?) before leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees. He met her eyes.  
“I work in law enforcement. I do negotiations, detective work, patrol and interrogation. Right now, I’m training to be part of the canine unit, as well.” Wow. A true man of many hats.   
“A cop, huh,” Lyra teased, nudging him with her elbow. “Didn’t know I was hanging out with the fuzz.”   
“Watch out.” Connor raised a brow and gave a lopsided smirk. It occurred to Lyra that the gun holster she noticed last night was most likely related to his job.   
“I like a man in uniform.” She giggled, taking another sip of her drink before putting out her cigarette.  
  
The two settled into a comfortable silence, Lyra sipping her drink and Connor taking in the party. Parties weren’t really her scene, but she had to admit, this one was done awfully well. The lights were beautiful, the crowd was jostling but intimate, and the music was fun. Not to mention, the drinks were phenomenal. She knocked back the last of it, feeling a bit buzzed already; the dance floor looked painfully inviting.  
“Would you like to talk about your day?” Connor took _his _turn to nudge with an elbow, and Lyra couldn’t help but let a soft grin amble over her features. Connor returned it, leaning back and folding his legs comfortably. Even though there was a playful, almost _flirtatious _atmosphere between them tonight, Lyra felt that familiar darkening of her mind.   
“It was kinda rough. One of my coworkers got some flowers delivered to her at work.”  
“Was that the rough part?”  
“A little. I was… kinda jealous. It made me feel like shit, because she was super happy, but I was in a crap mood for the rest of the day. It made me feel lonely, you know?”  
  
Connor seemed to ponder this for a moment, looking off to the side in a very _human_ display of cognitive processing.   
“So, you wish you had someone to send you flowers? A sweetheart?”  
Lyra let out an almost _boisterous _laugh, immediately feeling bad afterwards because he looked at her with such confusion.   
“No one calls it that anymore, Connor,” She giggled, giving him an apologetic glance. “A boyfriend, maybe. Or, hell, even a one night stand. I’m tired of being lonely.”  
“I don’t think a one night stand would help very much,” Connor murmured, giving her an apologetic look of his own. “It might feel nice in the moment, but it seems as though it would hurt you more when he left.”  
“You’re probably right…” It was at this point that Lyra felt herself shutting down a bit, becoming consumed with thoughts of loneliness and inability to commit. Dying alone. Her anxiety ramped up. _I’m already 24. If I don’t mind someone right now, that means I only have, like, ten more years to have kids and stuff. What the fuck… _Her leg began to bounce automatically, a nervous tick she developed in high school. Connor remained quiet, and she could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up. Dimly, she became aware of a soft song change, and she was grateful for it.  
  
_It’s easy with you___  
_Breathe easy with you___  
_It’s crazy that you texted me; I was just about to text you___  
__  
Connor gently tapped her and she turned to look at him, feeling stubborn tears begin to prick at her eyes. He gazed at her with a gentleness that took her off guard.  
“Would you like to dance?”  
  
_We write the same records___  
_Shit talk, you’re so clever___  
_I love how you bite your necklace___  
  


Lyra rose with him from the wicker couch and he offered his hand, the other folded behind his back.    
“I don’t want to dance,” Lyra muttered, looking down and letting out a bitter laugh. “I just want to fall.”   
Connor seemed to process this for a moment before setting his hand on her shoulder.    
  
“May I be brash for a moment?” He asked, which made her look up in surprise. She nodded. He leaned in, impossibly close, to whisper gently in her ear. “Why can’t we do both?”   
  
_ When we’re up all night _ __   
_ And drinking black coffee _ __   
__   
Lyra gasped softly at the contact, and at the very  _ openly  _ flirtatious connotations of what he asked; he leaned back from her and offered his hand once more, a very solemn expression settling on his face.  _ Oh, wow. He’s serious.  _ Lyra gently took his hand.    
  
_ Talking ‘bout life _ __   
_ Talk about nothing _ __   
_ And your lipstick stains _ __   
_ Look so enticing _ __   
__   
Connor led her slowly into the open part of the rooftop used as a dance floor and she noticed that this had been where he stood three nights ago, telling her to come down. Glitter shimmered on the concrete. Connor gently rested one of his hands on the small of her back, pulling her a bit closer; his other took her hand. She rested hers on his shoulder, and they began to dance.   
  
_ We talk about everything _ __   
_ Talk about nothing _ __   
_ Over black coffee _ __   
_ Over black coffee _ __   
__   
Lyra couldn’t help but stare up at Connor, directly into his eyes, and she was dimly aware of the gnawing feeling that told her to look away but was powerless under the soft smile he was giving her. Soft smile, affectionate brown eyes.  _ Bedroom eyes,  _ she thought absently.    
“Is this alright?” He murmured, rubbing gentle circles into her back with his thumb. Reassuring.   
“Yes,” Was all she could say, painfully aware of how breathless she sounded.    
_ Give in or give up,  _ she thought.  _ Just give in. Stop being anxious and let something good happen to you for once in your miserable life.  _ __   
__   
_ When we take our time _ __   
_ On the cellphone lines _ __   
_ It’s all these things you do that _ __   
_ Drive me wild _ __   
__   
Slowly, tentatively, Lyra leaned to rest her head on his shoulder, hearing the soft hum of processors working. It should have been weird. It should have reminded her that he wasn’t human, that this was so strange, that she shouldn’t be doing this. But Connor only pulled her closer and rested his head atop hers, and all thoughts vanished. She relaxed.  _ Soft,  _ she thought.  _ He’s so soft. And warm. _ __   
__   
_ The smell of your sweatshirt _ __   
_ The way that your hair looks _ __   
_ When it’s in your face _ __   
__   
“Is this better than standing at the edge of the roof?” Connor leaned to whisper softly in her ear, and a small, involuntary shiver raced through her.   
“Yes,” She mumbled again, closing her eyes. “Let’s just… stay like this.”   
“It would be nice.” Connor rested his cheek at her temple and again she was struck by how warm he was. The air between them was soft and quiet - gentle, if not carrying some undertone of desire.    
  
_ We’re up all night _ __   
_ Drinking black coffee _ __   
_ Talking ‘bout life _ __   
_ Talking ‘bout nothing _ __   
_ And your lipstick stains _ __   
_ Can you see that I’m falling? _ __   
_ Can talk about everything _ __   
_ Can talk about nothing _ __   
_ Over black coffee _   
  
Lyra turned and, in a moment of bravery, gently kissed his cheek.    
“Thank you,” She whispered. “I needed this.”   
Connor was silent for a moment before returning her kiss, pressing one to her forehead - he kept his lips there for at least five or six seconds before leaning back down to press his cheek to her temple, where it had been before.   
“So did I.”   
  
_ We’re up all night _ __   
_ Drinking black coffee _ __   
_ Talking ‘bout life _ __   
_ Talking ‘bout nothing _ __   
_ And your lipstick stains _ __   
_ Can you see that I’m falling? _ __   
_ Can talk about everything _ __   
_ Can talk about nothing _ __   
_ Over black coffee _ __   
__   
_ Over black coffee _ __   
__   
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got that BEAUTIFUL fluff goin on in here
> 
> Song is "Black Coffee" by Nightly, I highly recommend that you give it a listen bc it's so soft and romantic  
Just like these two kids
> 
> Extra extra read all about it dorky android and young adult mess have fallen in LOVE
> 
> Okay okay I'm sorry i'm just really excited  
Leave me comments! I love you all! <3


	5. Night #5

**Offices of The Detroit Free Press** ****  
**9:00:06 AM** ****  
****  
Lyra swore that if she had to watch another gaudy display of affection delivered to Sophia again today, she’d jump before Connor even had the chance to  _ think  _ about heading to the high rise. She sat her things at the entryway and made a beeline for the breakroom, craving coffee. She was able to pour a cup and bring it to her lips  _ once _ before someone was calling for her.    
_ Two minutes in,  _ she thought.  _ A new record. _ __   
“Lyra,” Sophia peeked into the breakroom, her flaming locks bouncing from her shoulders. Lyra felt a wave of envy. “Guess what you got?”   
“Suicide jokes?” Lyra grinned, weakly giving Sophia finger guns after snapping. Sophia rolled her eyes and skipped forward, grabbing Lyra’s free hand.    
“True, but… Well, just come here!” She laughed, pulling Lyra to her desk. Lyra was about to slip into an irritated groan before she cut herself off, letting out an amazed gasp instead.   
  
On Lyra’s cluttered desk was a simple flower arrangement comprised of yellow daffodils and white heather. It was by no means a grand gesture, very dainty and small. The flowers were settled in a thin glass vase. Lyra stepped forward slowly in amazement, eyes falling to a small white card attached. She reached and took it, reading it silently to herself. The script was in neat yet masculine cursive; written with blue felt-tip pen in soft, sweeping motions.   
  
_ Daffodils typically symbolize rebirth and new beginnings. Heather, in its white iteration, is meant to stand for protection and safety. I hope these find you, and bring you both.  _ __   
__   
_ \- C _ ****  
****  
Nice to know he’d branched out from Cyberlife Sans. Lyra felt heat bloom everywhere as she instantly remembered what Connor asked her the night before regarding flowers and  _ sweethearts _ and somehow the chastity of it all was too much. She doubted a dozen roses could’ve had this effect.  _ It’s subtle,  _ she thought.  _ He knows how to be subtle but still… so forward. And so caring. _ __   
__   
Sophia leaned over her shoulder.    
“Who’s ‘C’?” She all but squealed, and Lyra only smiled.    
“Somebody awfully special.”   
“ __ I’ll  say!”   
“Hey, Sophie,” Lyra smiled slyly. “Feel like doing a little digging?”

**Lakeview High Rise****  
** **22:14:56 PM****  
** **  
** Lyra had all but raced to the roof, and couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that she was this excited. She hadn’t been this excited in… years, it seemed. She reached the door and flung it open, only to find Connor already waiting a few paces from the edge of the roof. He was backlit by the skyline and Lyra felt a surge of affection as she met his eyes, dark but sparkling.   
  
“Did you like them?” He asked quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Lyra strode forward with such purpose that she surprised even herself - and apparently Connor as well, for his brows gently raised, seemingly in expectation. She threw her arms around him and he _laughed _ever so softly and my goodness what a wonderful sound.  
  
“They were so sweet,” Lyra smiled into his crisp white shirt, dimly aware that she could be rubbing make-up on it but too happy to care. “Thank you so much, Connor.” Unlike the first time they embraced, Connor was not tense or awkward but soft; he snaked his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly.   
“Of course,” He murmured into her hair. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up.”   
“Except now everybody at work thinks I have a boyfriend!” Lyra laughed, and she felt Connor tense slightly. He gently peeled her away, holding her by her shoulders. He met her eyes, and he looked almost surprised.  
“I think that’s the first I’ve heard you laugh,” Connor smiled. “Genuinely, at least.”  
Lyra felt a blush burn itself into her cheeks and she instinctively looked away, smiling sheepishly.   
“Yeah, well… No need to make a big deal out of it, or anything.”   
Connor chuckled again and Lyra thought to herself that she could definitely get used to hearing _him _laugh. “You seem happy tonight.” She added, looking back to him and realizing that he was still holding her. Connor seemed to ponder for a moment, looking up in thought, rubbing gentle circles into her shoulders with his thumbs.  
“I suppose I am,” He said with an air of quiet surprise. A gentle smile pulled at his features and he looked back down at Lyra, adding with more determination and squeezing her shoulders softly: “Yes, I think I am.”  
  
They stood that way for a moment, staring at each other like lovesick puppies, before suddenly realizing _oh, we’re just staring at each other, this is awkward _and breaking apart at nearly the same time - Lyra, flushed and looking down at the concrete, still spackled with glitter; Connor, looking up and away, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and rubbing sheepishly.  
  
“Wait,” Lyra frowned all of a sudden, giving him a suspicious glance. “How did you know I worked at the Freep?” It was Connor’s turn to frown, in confusion, tilting his head and meeting her eyes.  
“...Freep?” He asked, squinting slightly.  
“Free press. The Detroit Free Press. How did you know I’m a receptionist there?”   
“Oh!” Connor exclaimed quietly, letting a soft smile of clarity grace his features. “I have an analyzer. I can find basic information about others by giving a quick scan.”   
“That’s…” Lyra grimaced, watching Connor tilt his head once more. “Kinda creepy. So you knew my name and where I worked the very first night?”  
“No,” Connor almost _pouted_, a tinge of defensiveness entering his tone. “I refrain from doing that when I meet new people. I used to do it automatically, but I found that learning as I went was more satisfying. I really had no idea. But when you told me about the flower incident yesterday, I knew I’d need the scan to figure it out. I would have given it away if I’d asked you where you worked.” Lyra wasn’t wholly keen on the idea of Connor knowing so much at a glance, and yet decided to prod a little more, against her better judgement.  
  
“So,” She began slowly, leaning in. “What else do you know about me?” Connor seemed to light up and Lyra began to have a sneaking suspicion that he took his investigative abilities home from work with him - and all too keenly.  
“Well,” He began conversationally, gesturing with an open hand, lazily sauntering forward. “I know that you work at the press as a receptionist, and have for about a year now. Your previous employ was a cafe, but I’m giving an educated guess and surmising you left because you wanted more. You have a criminal record -”  
“You can see that?!” Lyra screeched, watching him turn back to her with a grin.   
“Yes. You have a criminal record - civil infraction; minor in possession, for which you were required to attend community service.”  
“I thought that would drop off when I turned 21?”  
“A myth. It stays on your record,” Connor continued to stride slowly around the rooftop, obviously enjoying himself. “Anyway, I also know that your birthday is July 23rd, and I know that your middle name is ‘Rose’, last name, ‘Barnes’.”  
  
Lyra dropped her shoulders in defeat, unable to keep the gobsmacked expression from covering her features. Connor turned to her, smirking.  
“Well, _Lyra_ _Rose Barnes_, are you impressed?”  
“You’re getting awfully cocky over there,” Lyra raised a brow. Time to pull out the big guns. “But I know some stuff about you, too.”  
  
Connor looked at her expectantly.  
“I’d imagine most people do, if you’re referring to what I think you are.”  
“You were assigned to the DPD a few years ago to investigate deviants.”  
“Common knowledge. Go on?”  
“You broke into the evidence room of your precinct and hijacked sensitive information to find the deviant hideout.”  
Connor looked a little surprised, but not unnerved.  
“Impressive, but not altogether difficult information to find. Anything else?”  
“You also broke into Cyberlife tower, taking out a handful of guards and setting free about 1,000 androids.” Connor grinned, almost seeming proud of this.  
“Guilty as charged. But all of this is basically public knowledge. I assume that’s all?”  
“Last year, you went to the Halcyon club downtown - and chose only human partners.”  
  
Connor went ramrod straight, eyes widening, lips parting, LED flashing yellow.   
  
“How did you know that?” He asked quietly, almost breathless, and he seemed to go pale. Lyra knew immediately she’d overstepped and felt as if she’d been splashed with cold water.  
“I - You know what, let’s just forget that,” She laughed nervously, looking off, but Connor approached her quickly, looking down at her intensely.  
“Listen,” He spoke gravely, and Lyra met his eyes once more. They smoldered, but Lyra couldn’t figure out with what emotion. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “This information could very seriously impact my career. How did you learn this?”  
Lyra distinctly felt a sense of apprehension rise within her. _Not good, _she thought. _Abort. Abort.___  
“I, uh… You know, it’s really not important - ”  
“Please tell me.” Connor’s voice came more commanding this time and Lyra had to swallow a little bit of actual __fear that had crept into her throat.  
“I just… I just have this friend that does some digging for me sometimes, okay? It’s no big deal, she doesn’t sell it or anything -”  
“Please ensure that this information doesn’t leak.” Connor looked slightly panicked now, brows coming together in the middle of his forehead, desperation seeping into his voice. “I very much enjoy my career.”

"Why would it impact your career?" Lyra mumbled, powerless once more to tear her eyes away from his.  _ Deer in the headlights. _

"Because human prostitution is  _ illegal, _ " Connor hissed. "And relations between androids and human partners in that setting is, at best,  _ highly _ controversial."

"And at worst?" Lyra squeaked, reaching to thumb at his jacket, hoping to appeal to his better nature. Connor looked down briefly at her hand before impaling her with his gaze once more. 

"Cause for immediate termination and possible imprisonment." He whispered, LED briefly flashing red. _Oh. _Lyra felt a stab of guilt. _Fix this. _  
  
“It’s okay,” She tried to soothe, reaching to gently caress his shoulder. “It won’t get out. She has no reason to do that, and she knows you’re important to me.” Connor was silent but seemed to lean into her touch, frowning deeply. Lyra took the cue and slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a soft embrace. He held his arms from her a moment as if he wasn’t going to return it and Lyra grimaced, feeling guiltier than ever. _You betrayed his trust. You really are a shit human being. _Connor slowly, tentatively, wrapped his arms around her.  
  
“...I trust you.” He murmured quietly into her hair after a few moments, with seemingly great difficulty.   
“Connor,” Lyra began tentatively, not wanting to upset him further but needing to know. “Why did you go there?” Connor relaxed slightly, but didn’t move from her hold.   
“I was lonely.”   
“Lonely?”  
“After androids gained rights to housing and property ownership, I rented an apartment. But deviancy, I suppose, does strange things, and I began to resent coming home to an empty apartment each evening.”  
“Why human women? Why not androids?”  
Connor seemed to heave a sigh and she could tell he felt guilty, _ashamed,_ even.   
“Androids are perfect in seemingly every way. We’re designed that way. But humans are complex. They have complex… _reactions_, organic ones.” She noticed a flush crawl its way up his neck and his grip on her tightened slightly. Something about the way he said this coiled Lyra’s insides.  
“Reactions?”  
Connor remained silent but his flush grew darker and he gently began to grasp at her shirt.  
“_Reactions._” He simply repeated, almost inaudibly, and it dawned on Lyra that he was getting flustered. _Oh.___  
  
“I’m… I’m sorry for prying.” Lyra mumbled into his neck, purposefully touching her lips to his synthetic skin, curiosity gnawing at her. Connor shivered, almost imperceptibly. She wondered how far he could be pushed, how much he could take, before he either gave in or stepped away. She assumed it would be the latter. He cleared his throat and she dimly became aware of how tightly he’d been holding her.  
“It’s alright.” A touch of hoarseness had roughed his voice and Lyra felt as though the tension could be sliced down the middle with a knife. She trailed her fingers over the back of his neck, teasingly light, and once again Connor suppressed a shiver before stepping away quickly, separating her almost forcefully.  
“I…!” He choked, before looking toward the skyline, flush still blatantly evident. “I think I should get going…” It was strange to see someone as composed as Connor get so hasty, so unpredictably shaken up.  
“Are you upset with me?” Lyra asked softly, feeling guilty but also so incredibly _lustful_ that she had to scold herself internally. Connor looked to her, apologetic.  
  
“No,” He murmured, brows drawing up in what could only be described as guilt. “I didn’t mean to get quite so intense with you earlier. I was very worried, and I’m not used to being caught off guard. I don’t like it.” The heat in Lyra’s stomach seemed to extinguish, albeit slowly, in favor of a soft affection blooming in her chest.   
“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, and Connor placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a soft smile.   
“It’s alright. We were getting competitive,” He sighed softly, almost seeming relieved, before he lit up. “Oh! I almost forgot. I wanted to give you this.” Connor pulled a rectangular white card from his jacket, holding it out to her. A business card?   
  
**_Detroit Police Department_****_  
_** _Det. Con. “Connor”, RK800___  
_Investigation and Field ___  
_x4891 [9:00am-5:00pm]___  
_Direct:___ (313) 219-9082  
  
“If you need to reach me, you can call my extension during business hours,” Connor explained. “And if you’d like to talk after offices are closed, you can call or text my direct line.”  
“You’re giving me your phone number?” Lyra teased, nudging him in his side. He huffed out a laugh.   
“Yes,” He smiled. “I want you to be able to contact me if something happens. And, I would like to be able to talk with you somewhere other than the edge of a high rise residential building.”  
Lyra grinned at him and he returned it, stepping past her to leave. He squeezed her shoulder once.  
  
“Be safe, Lyra,” He regarded her gently, affection sparkling in his eyes and giving Lyra heart palpitations. “And I’ll see you tomorrow night.” She nodded to him, mumbling a “you too” before looking back off toward the skyline, realizing it had been the first night in ages she hadn’t come up here with the intention to jump. She heard the heavy rooftop door open, and Connor called to her.  
“Oh, and… Lyra?”   
She whipped to face him, flushing, and he met her eyes, giving her a chastising smile.  
  
“No more digging, please.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got ourselves a lil twisty twist  
I got the name "Halcyon" for the club from another fic; i can't remember the name of it ;;;
> 
> We got some sexy tension, a little bit of imperfection for Con man and a business card  
Wee woo we're in business
> 
> You know the drill, gimme some comments! <3
> 
> Btw  
Don't call that number  
I don't know who's it is i just pulled it out of my ass


	6. Day #1

**Detroit Police Department - Precinct 52** ****  
**Investigative Offices** ****  
**11:16:07 AM** ****  
****  
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you were blowin’ off your patrols?” Hank tongued his cheek, obviously irritated, and Connor looked down, feeling a wave of shame wash over him.  
“I… ran into an unexpected civilian issue.” He muttered, hearing Hank make a noncommittal sound in his throat. He wasn’t convinced. _ Technically it _ is _ a civilian issue, _ Connor thought.  
“What _ kinda _ civilian issue?” Hank curled his lip, leaning closer to Connor, waves of suspicion rolling off of him.  
“I…” The lieutenant’s interrogation skills were subpar at best, but Connor supposed it was their bond that tightened his throat and made it difficult to speak in situations like this. “She was… in a delicate situation, Hank.”  
“Quit bein’ vague and just tell me what’s goin’ on.”  
  
“It was a suicidal civilian. I noticed her on my patrol on 2nd Street some nights ago. She intended to keep going back to Lakeview High Rise until she was able to jump. I’m preventing that.”  
Hank relaxed, seeming exasperated, and ran a hand through his hair. Connor noticed he’d gotten it cut very recently, though still kept it quite long. Hank sighed, meeting Connor’s eyes.  
“Listen, son,” He began, and Connor’s heart thumped at the moniker. “I know where your heart is and all, but you can’t keep blowin’ off patrols for one girl. If she’s gonna do it, she’s gonna do it, and there’re other people out there that need your help. You did the right thing the first night, but…” Hank suddenly seemed to gain new information, or something akin to it, and he trailed his eyes to Connor’s face, squinting. _ Oh no. _  
_ “Wait. _ ” He said slowly, and Connor sighed, hanging his head. He knew when he’d been found out. Still, it was _ Lyra. _  
“Her name is Lyra Rose Barnes. It’s pretty, isn’t it...?”  
“Connor!” Hank barked, and Connor jumped, startled from his brief reverie. Hank leaned back, gesturing with his hands. “Don’t tell me you’ve got some puppy crush goin’ on! That makes this ten times worse. What the fuck?!” Connor’s insides clenched and he couldn’t help but resent his deviancy at times like these. The shame was almost too much. ****  
“I’m sorry!” Connor raised his voice and felt himself getting defensive but was unable to reel in his frustration. “I know I’m supposed to rotate my patrols, but if I’d never come the second night, she would have jumped! She’s so young and pretty, Hank... I can’t let that happen!”  
  
Hank seemed to soften, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder.  
“Listen, kid. I know you’ve got a soft spot for her, and it’s a real shame she’s goin’ through some shit. But you can’t blow off work for her. Maybe you could ask her to meet you somewhere else. Try and make a difference for her _ without _ fuckin’ off your damn patrols! I can only cover for ya’ for so long.” Hank gave him an affectionate, yet chastising glare, reaching to ruffle his hair. Connor grinned despite himself and relaxed. _ He’s hard on me because he must be, _ he thought, feeling a swell of admiration. _ I shouldn’t want it any other way. _  
“Thank you, Hank,” Connor smiled, then tilted his head out of habit. “Where should I take her? I want it to be fun for her.” _ Maybe coffee? Maybe dinner? _  
Hank groaned but laughed shortly after, as if he’d known this was coming.  
“Far be it from _ me _ to give ya’ relationship advice, but _ I’d _ take her to Belle Isle. That place’s got something for everybody.”  
“Belle Isle!” Connor exclaimed, feeling excited already. Of course. “Great idea, Hank. Thank you.”  
“Yeah, yeah. Now get back to work, ya’ salty dog.” **  
**Connor hoped Lyra would call. He didn’t want to have to go back to the high rise and chance making Hank even angrier. Feeling a rush of anticipation, he set about his work, secretly researching Belle Isle on the side.

**Offices of The Detroit Free Press** ****  
**Reception Desk** ****  
**2:08:11 PM** ****  
****  
“Just text him if you’re too afraid to call!” Sophia screeched, leaning over Lyra’s shoulder. Though the support was nice, she felt Sophia’s voice grate on her nerves a little.  
“Jeez, Sophie, stop _ screaming _ in my ear!” She laughed, clutching her cellphone and peeking around the office. “I’d rather not _ everybody _ know I’m this desperate.”  
“Oh, please! If you’re too chicken, I’ll write a text for you,” Sophia lilted, waggling her eyebrows, and Lyra’s heart skipped.  
“Absolutely not! You’ll end up asking him “can I have some dick” or something!”  
“Precisely!”  
“Listen, I’m just -”  
“Gimme the phone -”  
“Hey! Give it back -”

“Aaaand… sent!”  
Lyra dove for her phone, eyes wide, wondering what kind of fresh hell she’d find on the screen, but instantly relaxed.

**Lyra: ** ****  
hey it’s lyra, hows it going?  
  
“Jesus, Sophie, you almost gave me a heart attack…” Lyra laughed, hugging her phone to her chest. Sophia giggled.  
“You didn’t think I’d _ actually _ do that to you, did I?!” She gave a toothy grin and Lyra couldn’t help but smile back before her phone _ ping! _ ed and they both scrambled.  
  
**Connor: ** ****  
Hello. It's nice to hear from you, Lyra. Today has been busy, but not altogether unsatisfying. How are things going for you?  
  
Sophia squealed, balling her fists and shaking them near her face, and Lyra just rolled her eyes.  
“By your reaction, you’d think he just asked me to _ marry _ him,” She teased, and Sophia jumped up and down excitedly, tapping her shoulder rapidly.  
“Tell him I said hi!” She bubbled, and Lyra laughed, typing out a quick message.  
  
**Lyra: ** ****  
not bad, not bad  
  
**Lyra:** ****  
sophia says hi  
  
Sophia seemed vilified, nodding once, staunchly. Lyra grinned at her before an intern called to her from across the office.  
“Gotta go,” Sophia said excitedly, stars in her eyes. “Good luck!” She sang, skipping off to the intern. Lyra watched her go, laughing softly to herself. _ I can’t believe I was so jealous of her the other day. She’s so sweet. _ Lyra’s phone let out a soft _ ping! _ and she scrambled for it, nearly dropping it on the floor, before rolling her eyes to herself. _ Now who’s getting excited? _  
  
**Connor:** ****  
I’m not sure who that is, but hello, Sophia.  
Lyra, would you like to do something together today?   
  
Lyra’s heart thumped and she felt herself break out in a slight cold sweat. _ Oh. My gosh. Play it cool. _ Lyra typed out her text and sent it, hoping she didn’t give away her vapid excitement.  
  
**Lyra:** ****  
besides our usual of standin on the high rise? Lol  
  
Her phone _ immediately _ chimed and Lyra wondered how on earth he could text so quickly.  
  
**Connor:** ****  
I was thinking we could go to Belle Isle later, if that sounds like fun to you.  
  
Lyra’s heart leaped. _ Belle Isle, it’s like this guy knows me too well. _  
  
**Lyra:** ****  
omg i’ve wanted to go to belle isle since i moved out but never got the chance  
  
**Connor:** ****  
Does seven o’ clock sound feasible? I can pick you up.  
  
Lyra’s heart fell a bit and she typed the next message sheepishly.  
  
**Lyra:** ****  
sounds great!! i live @ crestfall apts, #106. i gotta warn you tho, i don’t have a lot of money  
  
**Connor:** ****  
If you want to eat anything or buy anything while we’re out, I’ll take care of it. I invited you.  
  
Lyra couldn’t help but sigh softly and look over at the flowers still situated on the corner of her desk, feeling a swell of warmth in her chest. _ This guy knows how to treat a lady and he’s not even human. _  
  
**Lyra:** ****  
what a gentleman <3  
  
**Connor:** ****  
I’ll see you tonight, Lyra.  
  
Lyra grinned, feeling satisfied with herself, and reminded herself silently to thank Sophia later for her help. She dropped her phone into her purse and set to work on scheduling for only a few minutes before she heard one last _ ping! _  
Frowning, she reached into her purse and retrieved the phone. It was Connor, one more time, with a very simple text:  
  
**Connor:** ****  
<3  
  
Lyra couldn't help but laugh, feeling her cheeks burn. What a sweetheart. _ Oh. Sweetheart. _Lyra remembered the terminology from the other night and typed out a text, feeling a little shaky.  
  
**Lyra:  
**hey i don't mean to make this weird but  
is this a date?  
  
Compared to how quickly Connor had texted back before, Lyra was worried she'd scared him off; it was a solid minute before she received a reply.   
  
**Connor:  
**It isn't weird. But I'll make it weird.  
  
Lyra frowned but didn't have time to wonder what he meant before another text came in:  
  
**Connor:  
**I intended for it to be a date.   
Would you still like to come?  
  
Lyra's heart leaped and she felt a blush return to her cheeks.  
**  
Lyra:  
**more than ever. <3  
  
**Connor:  
**Wonderful.  
  
**Connor:**  
<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is kinda a filler chapter and I really wanted to include the date but it would've been super duper long if I had
> 
> I'll try and update with the actual date tonight!
> 
> Thank you lovelies <3


	7. Day #2 / Night #6

**Crestfall Apartment Complex** ****  
**Apartment #106** ****  
**6:58:54 PM** ****  
****  
Everything came together perfectly. It was foreign, putting on make-up and doing her hair; Lyra hadn’t felt fully put together in so long that actually looking _ nice _ for once seemed strange. She was dressed in shades of pastel blue and white, with light make-up, fluffed hair and a few simple pieces of jewelry. Altogether, looking at herself in the mirror, Lyra felt proud. She had no more finished looking herself over than she heard the doorbell ring.  
Her heart leaped into her throat. _ Here goes, _ she thought, dashing to answer it. Lyra pulled the door open, half expecting to see Connor in his usual business casual attire, and was pleasantly surprised.  
  
There he stood, wearing a slate grey tee covered with a dark navy cardigan, dark jeans and a simple silver necklace with a tiny triangle at its middle. A silver watch with a rectangular, cerulean blue face rested on his wrist. And to top it all off… a pair of navy converse.   
“Damn,” Lyra breathed, and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. Connor belted out a laugh and she noticed his hair looked almost loosely curled; teased. The same strand of hair rebelliously fell over his brow. “You, uh… you look really nice dressed down.”  
“Thank you,” Connor smiled, obviously flattered, still chuckling softly from her outburst. “You look really pretty, too, Lyra.”  
“Thank you,” She mumbled, letting her hand drop from her mouth. She opened the door wider. “Do you wanna come in for a sec? I’m just gonna grab some water.”  
“Sure,” Connor practically _ chirped _ , stepping in, and immediately his jaw went slack. “Wow, you have so many houseplants!”  
  
Lyra laughed, striding into the kitchen.  
“Yeah, they all have names.” She grabbed a couple water bottles from the fridge and slid them into her bag, peeking at him from the room divider.  
“Do they…” Connor hummed, more to himself than to her, poking around at them. To be fair, it probably was a spectacle for anyone _ normal. _ She had built up a collection of around twenty, and they hung from the ceilings and stacked around the floor in pretty pots. Her living room bursted with greenery.  
“It makes me feel alive.” Lyra said softly, approaching Connor slowly as he reached up to touch one, delicately taking a leaf between his thumb and his forefinger.  
“I can see why,” He mumbled, seemingly mystified. His LED glowed a calm blue and his eyes were slightly widened, a look of childlike wonder plastered onto his features. “They’re all so beautiful and healthy.” Lyra laughed softly, placing a hand on his shoulder; he turned to her, finally seeming to recover from that short burst of wonder.  
“Ready?” She asked quietly, giving him an affectionate smile. He returned it.  
“Most definitely.”  
  
**  
** Belle Isle, Detroit, Michigan ****  
**7:14:13 PM** ****  
****  
The first destination on Belle Isle was Sunset Point, as it truly _ was _ drawing near to sunset. The two settled on a small bench overlooking the point, with a splendid view of downtown Detroit. The sun dipped into the city skyline over the Detroit River and Lyra couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen something so beautiful. She glanced at Connor and he seemed just as mystified as she. The setting sun turned his irises golden, just as they would any human’s, and she could see the thin black outline of his optics tucked away within.  
“It’s incredibly beautiful,” He murmured, seeming transfixed. “Did you know that the colors of the sunset are caused by something called Rayleigh Scattering?” He gestured with his hand to the sky in gentle sweeping motions. “Molecules and small particles in the Earth's atmosphere cause the light rays to break apart and scatter.”  
Lyra smiled, watching the sun dip ever lower into the skyscrapers of downtown Detroit. Feeling courageous, she gently took his hand that was resting on the bench, twining their fingers together. Connor glanced at her before squeezing her hand gently and returning his gaze to the point.  
  
**Belle Isle Aquarium**  
**7:45:18 PM**  
  
The next destination was obvious - Belle Isle Aquarium. They had to move quickly due to time constraints, but every so often they would stop and stare. For this particular moment, Connor had settled on a tank with vibrant orange and blue fish swimming languidly between the reeds.  
“Dwarf gourami,” He noted, turning to glance at Lyra before bringing her in to look closer with a hand at the small of her back. “They’re native to South Asia and are peaceful, non-aggressive breeds. I came across one on my first mission from Cyberlife. It was lying on the ground and I placed it back in the aquarium.” The fish flitted this way and that in the enclosure.  
“They’re really cute.” Lyra beamed, and Connor chuckled.  
“I like them. Their movements give them a carefree look.”  
“Goin’ with the flow?” She grinned, and Connor smiled, watching the fish with an affectionate expression.  
“Goin’ with the flow.” He repeated, and Lyra couldn’t help but laugh. They resumed the trip, Connor’s hand remaining soft on her back. Lyra walked closer and let her eyes fall shyly downcast, and he adjusted, letting his arm wrap gently around her waist. Her cheeks began to hurt from smiling so much.  
  
  
**Belle Isle Beach** ****  
**8:30:06 PM** ****  
****  
The last stop on the itinerary was the beach - dimly lit by the lights of downtown Detroit, it seemed the perfect end to a wonderful date. Surprisingly, there were quite a few people still wandering about on the beach even at thirty minutes to close. The water of the Detroit River was black in the dark of night, washing over the pale sand of the beach. Lyra took a mental snapshot of the view and afterward looked a few paces to the left at Connor. He’d built a tiny sandcastle, not perfect but not shoddy either. He plucked a leaf from the sand and gingerly poked it into the top, glancing up to grin at her. Lyra laughed.  
“Fit for a king,” She declared regally, marching dramatically over to him. His grin widened.  
“But what is a kingdom to a king without a queen?” Connor tilted his head, raising a brow, and Lyra was thankful for the dim lighting - for what seemed to be the millionth time this evening, her cheeks burned with a blush.  
“I suppose he’ll just have to find one.” She murmured quietly, and Connor stood, reaching gently for her hand.  
  
“I’ve really had a wonderful time tonight, Lyra,” He began, voice lowered, giving her a soft smile and holding her hand in his. “I’m glad we came.”  
“Me too.” Lyra mumbled, looking up at him shyly. They shared a moment and Connor stepped closer, looking into her eyes. His LED flickered between yellow and blue. He seemed to flush, looking off slowly to the side.  
“Lyra, I -”  
  
From seemingly out of nowhere - though of course it seemed like that, they’d been gawking at only each other for quite a few minutes - a young man ran behind Connor and demolished the sand castle, whooping and hollering. Connor looked over his shoulder at the man with nothing more than slight irritation, but Lyra felt something stronger bubble inside of her.  
“ _ Asshole!” _ She screamed after him, and he skidded to a stop in the sand, turning back to look at them. _ Uh oh. _ A couple more boys who had been making their way after the first turned their attention to her as well, skirting them. She turned to Connor, who was eyeing them warily, but hadn’t moved from his spot.  
  
“Lookee _ here _ ,” The first leered, “We on a _ date _ ?” The others laughed and Lyra felt a hot shame settle in her stomach. The boy rounded on Connor, who straightened and seemed to puff up slightly. “Whatcha lookin’ at, headlights?”  
“We _ were _ looking at the view,” Connor replied calmly, confidently. Instinctively, Lyra drew closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around her protectively. “I assume you’d like to join us?”  
“They’re on a _ date,” _ One of the other boys called from further back, though he was making his rounds on them as well. “How cute.”  
“That true, headlights? You and pretty lady here having a nice time?”  
“We _ were,” _ Lyra found her voice, stepping closer, out of Connor’s hold. “Until you _ children _ came along.” Connor squeezed her shoulder, a silent warning to come back and join him. The ringleader bypassed her and strode straight to Connor and Lyra was distinctly aware of the others drawing closer. She tossed a wary glance to Connor, who looked almost as if he were sizing him up to fight, yet he still maintained a calm demeanor.  
  
“I’m feelin’ kinda thirsty, Chubs,” The ringleader called to one of the other boys, and the one called “Chubs” stepped forward, offering his soda. The ringleader’ eyes never left Connor’s, though he reached back and took it. Lyra was grateful that the boys seemed to leave her alone, but was growing more and more worried about Connor. Ever calm, ever collected. “Thirsty, headlights?”  
“Not particularly, though I thank you for offering.” A tinge of irritation slipped into Connor’s tone and the two were almost chest to chest now. Connor stood tall, looking down at the boy with an almost cold stare.  
“Listen up,” The ringleader glowered, leaning in at a very close proximity to Connor, whose lip twitched ever so slightly. _ He only has so much patience, _ Lyra thought, frozen. _ Something’s going to happen here. _ “Leave the pretty human girls to _ us. _ You all have your freedom and your freaky baby factories. So hand her over.” Lyra snarled and shot forward, earning a wide eyed glance from Connor. Ringleader Kid planted a hand firmly on her chest, stopping her in her tracks. “Got it?” He turned back to Connor, who bristled, eyes icy yet glinting off of the Detroit skyline with a rage that made Lyra freeze in place.  
  
“I don’t think so,” Connor leaned in, voice low, tilting his head and baring his teeth. “I think you’d better make it clearer.”  
Without another word, Ringleader Kid smashed the paper cup full of soda over Connor’s head and ran off cackling, though not without a failed attempt to grab him on Connor’s part. He stumbled forward slightly, figurative hackles raised.  
“See ya, sweetcheeks,” Ringleader called, giving Lyra a salute from across the beach. “You ever get tired of that plastic dick, you just come on down here.”  
“Not even in your _ fucking dreams!” _ Lyra screamed, frustrated tears burning at her eyes.  
  
After they were gone, Lyra looked from Connor’s ruined sandcastle to Connor himself, drenched in soda. Her rage melted into pity and she quickly approached him, fawning over him.  
“Are you okay? That was awful, I’m so sorry -”  
“ _ Don’t touch me,” _ Connor growled, still bristling, and Lyra felt as though she’d been doused with cold water, backing away reflexively. “I’m _ fine.” _  
“Connor, I’m so sorry,” Lyra whimpered, vision blurring with tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
Connor straightened, taking a deep breath, his hands flying to the collar of his shirt to straighten a tie that wasn’t there. After a split second of being perplexed, he glanced at Lyra, expression softening.  
“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, slowly approaching her. She nodded, sniffling softly. “Why are you crying?”  
“Because they’re _ assholes!” _ Lyra screamed toward the direction they left in, as if to spite them, before letting out a soft sob. “Why do people treat androids like this?! It’s been years! ”  
“I believe,” Connor wrung out the sleeve of his cardigan, watching the dark liquid fall to the sand. “It’s because we were together.”  
“I guess you’re right,” Lyra muttered, wiping her tears and slumping to a sitting position on the sand. “I’m sorry, Connor. This is all my fault.”  
  
“How is it your fault?” Connor frowned down at her before gracefully sitting beside her. “You didn’t know this would happen.”  
“No, but I should have. You’ve seen the rallies, haven’t you? You’re an officer. The human/android movements. The demonstrations.” Connor seemed to ponder this and nodded slowly, meeting her eyes.  
“Yes,” He murmured. “I suppose so.” After a pregnant pause, he reached to softly brush his hand through Lyra’s hair and she relaxed instantly at his touch. “For what it’s worth, I had a nice time until just now.” Lyra looked up at him, feeling lost.  
“Did you?”  
“Yes. Now, let’s get you home. It’s late, and I’d rather not have any more possible ‘excessive force’ violations.”  
  
They stood together, and Connor leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lyra’s cheek. Heat simmered through her once more and she leaned up to return it, gently kissing the corner of his mouth. Connor held out his hand and she took it; they walked quietly hand in hand back to Connor’s car, each walking a little closer to each other than they’d started - not altogether unhappy, yet feeling a trepidation for the future that couldn’t be ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have one thing to say for myself and that is that i'm so sorry  
i'll make it better next chapter, i promise  
my poor boy connor gets abused but lyra's gonna make it better  
thank you lovelies, until tomorrow <3
> 
> side note: if i have any readers from michigan or any that have actually been to belle isle, i tried my best to portray it as well as i could  
i've never been there so i literally pored for hours over belle isle to try and write it accurately


	8. Day #3

**Downtown Detroit, Michigan****  
****DPD Squad Car #36****  
****12:30:00 PM****  
****  
**“After that, Gavin informed me that he would no longer be in charge of the coffee machine,” Connor grinned into his cellphone, leaning back into the car’s seat. “Serves him right, if I say so myself.” Lyra’s laugh, musically sweet, came from the other end.   
“He sounds like an ass, anyway.”  
“Oh, for sure.” Connor replied, before sighing softly, lowering his voice to a more affectionate tone.   
  
“Lyra, I can’t stress to you enough how sorry I am for last night.” It had been on Connor’s mind for hours - not only the altercation itself but the way Connor had spoken to her, how he had felt a rage bubbling up sickeningly within him from the moment the guy laid his hands on her. Lyra made a soft, apologetic sound. Her voice was gentle, soothing, and any leftover anger Connor felt dissipated immediately. _I wish I could be near her, _he thought morosely.  
“Con, really, it’s okay. I know you were upset. Those guys were jerks. And they were being pretty, uh… _friendly_ with me, so to speak.”  
“I believe that’s part of what bothered me so much,” Connor fiddled with the walkie latched to the A/C vent of the squad car, watching the road. He’d been parked here to initiate a speed trap, but it seemed everyone wanted to follow ordinances today. “When he said to _‘hand you over’, _when he shoved you.”  
“So protective.” Lyra teased, and Connor could hear her pouring water in the background.  
“Are you at home?” He asked softly, and she made a quiet _mm-hmm_ sound.  
“Yeah, it’s my day off. I’m just watering the plants.” Something about that made Connor’s heart thud with affection, imagining her leaning among all of the flora, her lithe frame graceful in the afternoon sun. He felt a synthetic flush crawl over his cheeks.   
_Desire, _he thought passively. _This is desire. But… more? More than that._  
“I wish I could watch,” Connor murmured. “Your plants are so pretty.”  
  
“You can come over, if you want.” Lyra said quietly, and he could almost picture her looking up at him through her lashes shyly, her hair framing her face. _How I wish. _Connor glanced at the realtime clock in his peripherals, already calculating the distance between her home and his post. 5 minutes and 43 seconds.  
“Hank would be very upset...” Connor muttered, trying to convince himself more than Lyra. He could hear a rebellious streak seep into her voice.   
“What, you can’t take a lunch break?”  
Connor grinned in return. _Desire and more. The death of me, absolutely._  
“I’ll be there in five minutes.” He shifted the squad car into gear.

**Crestfall Apartment Complex** ****  
**Apartment #106** ****  
**12:40:06 PM** ****  
****  
Connor quickly climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time, and the thought occurred to him that he’d never felt so _ excited. _ As he drew close to Lyra’s door he heard music bubbling faintly from inside. He searched databases, poring through them quickly, before reaching a conclusion.   
_ Porter Robinson; “Shelter”. _ It sounded nice, rhythmic, even through the door. Connor rapped three times on it and heard shuffling from inside before it swung open.   
And there she was, making Connor’s heart jump in his chest. Figuratively, of course.   
  
“Hey,” Lyra beamed, and what could Connor do but return it with his own helplessly?   
“Hello,” He smiled, and Lyra opened the door wider for him to step inside. As it did the first time, her apartment astounded him; afternoon sun filtering in through her sliding door, houseplants clustered everywhere - slight clutter, but it didn’t bother Connor, rather, it was endearing in a strange way. A glass of white wine condensated on her coffee table. _ Riesling. 2038. _   
  
“Day drinking?” He asked, eyeing it as she closed the door behind him. _ I wonder how it tastes. _   
“Only the best wine in the world,” Lyra laughed, melodically, and offered the glass. “Can you try it at all, or…?” Connor was vaguely aware of a song shift and, of course, took the time to analyze.   
_ Shawn Wasabi; "Otter Pop". _ She must be happy today. The songs were light and airy and full of life.   
“I can, thank you.” Connor nodded, giving her an appreciative smile. He took the glass, their fingers brushing briefly - _ I want that to happen again. - _ and swirled it gently before bringing it to his lips. Like everything in the apartment today, it was refreshing and airy. He felt a grin break over his lips automatically. That had been happening more lately. The playlist began from her laptop, situated nearby - lyricless but nonetheless still full of happy sounds.   
  
“How long do you have for your break?” Lyra flopped lazily onto the couch, throwing him a satisfied glance.   
“Just long enough to talk for a bit, I’m afraid,” Connor said, settling in next to her and handing her the glass of wine. “Has today been better? I know yesterday must have been hard on you, with everything that happened.” Lyra groaned, lying sideways to rest her head on Connor’s lap, holding the glass steady. _ She’s warm, _ he thought, unable to keep himself from analyzing. _ 99.5 °F. Wine drunk, perhaps? _   
“You gotta stop beating yourself up over it, Con,” Lyra closed her eyes, and Connor could swear he felt her snuggle in a little closer. “I told you. People’s reactions worry me, especially if we’re gonna go places together, but I’m not upset at the way you reacted.” He couldn’t help brushing a hand through her hair, clearing it from her face.   
“I _ want _ to go places with you,” He replied earnestly, quietly, giving her a soft frown of concern. “And I want you to feel _ safe _ with me, Lyra.”   
She looked up at him then, eyes wide, and he realized he might have been a little too forthcoming with his feelings. So confusing, humans, but not altogether bothersome; if one is vague or explains too little, they’re upset. If one is forthcoming, they’re surprised. He noticed a blush bloom sweetly over her cheeks.   
“I _ do _ feel safe with you.” She spoke breathlessly, keeping his gaze, and Connor felt the air thicken. _ Desire and more, _ he remembered. He felt an urge well up within him, but relating to what feeling? What did he want to do? What is _ ‘and more’? _ Lyra leaned up suddenly, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth for a few precious moments. Connor felt his processors overclock for a microsecond. _ Oh. That’s what. _   
She pulled away all too soon, face reddened, and though it was only an almost-kiss, Connor missed the feeling immediately. Lrya was silent, burying her face into his chest. He realized the music had stopped several minutes ago.   
  
“Why do you do that?” Connor asked quietly, tilting his head out of habit, laying a gentle hand on her back, trying to comfort her.   
“Do what?” She mumbled, muffled, into his chest. Connor paused, and, since it gave him such pleasing results before, opted for the forthcoming.   
“Why don’t you kiss me?” He asked quietly, leaning to press his cheek to her temple. The air was gentle; soft.   
  
Lyra seemed to jolt slightly, as if she didn’t expect to hear something so forward, and pressed her face harder into his chest. _ Endearing, _ he thought. Connor softened, rubbing circles into her back, and gently kissed her forehead.   
“I’m scared.”   
He frowned, genuinely confused.   
“Of what?”   
“I don’t do well in relationships, Connor. I really like you - it’s hard not to. But...” She leaned back to look up at him, and while he wanted to be sensitive to what she was saying, Connor couldn’t help but think about how close her face was in proximity to his.”They always leave.”   
“And you’re afraid I’ll be the same?” He asked quietly, frowning. Lyra seemed as though she didn’t know what to say to that, drawing her eyes to his tie.   
“I overwhelm them. I get depressed, or anxious, and they don’t know how to handle it.”   
“I’ve already helped you once. I don’t see why I can’t continue.”   
“You don’t know how bad it can get, Connor. Things are good now, because I’m happy around you, but -”   
“I met you on the edge of a high rise, Lyra.” Connor murmured softly, smoothing her hair. She laughed, seemingly in spite of herself. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “I know depression. I haven’t experienced it personally, but before you, I worked with my lieutenant closely. He was… upset much of the time. I can help you, and I _ want _ to. I want to be _ near _ you.”   
  
Lyra seemed touched, her eyes spilling over. She blinked the tears away, seeming almost embarrassed, and looked down at Connor’s tie once more. It seemed she was set in thinking it wouldn’t work. Though disappointed, he understood. It could be difficult for those with mental illness to form meaningful relationships with others, especially when it has been used in the past as a reason for a breakup.   
“No matter what we are to each other, Lyra,” Connor felt as if he was running on autopilot, raising his hand to tilt her chin up so she would meet his eyes. She did, and her expression was unreadable, though tears still beaded at her lashes. “I would like to help you.”   
  
Without warning, Lyra shot forward and pressed her lips to his and Connor felt as if his mind went completely blank. No analyzers, no statistics. _ Desire, and so much more. _   
Clumsily, he returned the kiss, brushing his fingers through her hair, and she made a soft sound in her throat. Organic reactions. He felt a shiver rake through him, pulling his brows into a concentrated frown. To his disappointment, Lyra pulled away, panting softly. Connor was dimly aware of a synthetic flush that had crawled up his neck and over his cheeks.   
As if only just realizing what she’d done, her face reddened and she returned to burying her face into his shirt. Connor laughed, something he rarely did but was aware of it happening more and more.   
  
“Feel better?”   
  
Lyra only nodded into his shirt, and Connor wrapped his arms around her, feeling supremely content.   
  
“Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE GOT OUR KISS, BOIS
> 
> To switch things up and give an idea of how Connor's feeling about all this, i decided to write this in his POV; I hope it's not too jarring! He's significantly harder to write.
> 
> Thank you lovelies, gimme them comments and i'll see ya tomorrow <3


	9. Day #4

**[ Three Days Later ]** ****  
**Riverside Park** ****  
**Detroit, Michigan** ****  
**3:00:00 PM**   
  
Lyra was surprised, seemingly with every passing second, at how quickly and naturally things were progressing with Connor. Her previous relationships were stilted, almost forced; she would notice them and then there they would be, together, moving things along so quickly that she ended up getting swallowed up by them. Soon, her mind would tell her to _ escape _ , by any means possible - push them away, make them angry, put herself into a different personality so that they could say, _ “Hey, you’ve changed. I don’t want to be with you anymore.” _   
  
But with Connor, although things moved quickly leading up to a few days prior, she felt as if they settled where they were (albeit with more affection from both of them). Maybe it was just the way they were with each other; maybe Connor recognized her penchant for fight or flight and took things slowly for her benefit. Possibly, it was neither; Connor remarked that he’d never been in a committed relationship, and that she would need to be a little patient while he got his bearings. Maybe Connor was just the type to let things progress naturally, reacting to external stimuli. Whatever the reasoning, things felt _ natural _ where they were - not rushed, not frightening.   
  
Not only that, but Lyra’s mental state had improved. It was as if Connor was her personal counselor, one that she didn’t need to pay. It seemed as if he always knew the right questions to ask; always knew the logical side of her problems. It made sense, really. He, himself, was a logical being, algorithms and formulas. Not only that, but Connor had done some reading briefly after they met.   
_ “Once I realized I’d be spending more time around you, I wanted to learn more about stressors on the human psyche,” _ He’d told her a day ago as they sat in her bedroom, him stretched long on her bed, watching her clean, sharing a cup of coffee. _ “So that I could be better equipped to help you with whatever you’re going through. I’d rather not make things worse.” _   
  
It struck her how selfless he could be, but Lyra supposed that could be part of his programming. Connor - and all androids, really - were designed to please. It seemed, though, that it came from a genuine place in Connor’s heart. He talked of coworkers - his lieutenant, for example - and the affectionate lilt that came into his voice every time made her wonder how people ever truly thought these beings didn’t _ feel. _ Though he was reserved most of the time, Lyra wondered if Connor felt things more strongly, sometimes, than she did. Connor _ , _ Lyra decided, was a good person. It seemed as if he had almost no insecurity, no fear. She wondered if this was true, or if he just wasn’t the type to showcase things like that. Lyra was pulled from her introspection by the sound of quiet footfalls in the grass.   
  
“Hi,” Connor greeted, coming around the back of the bench she’d been sitting on, and she smiled warmly at him. He smiled softly and sat close to her.   
“Hey, Connor. I was just thinking about you.” Connor seemed flattered, his brows raising slightly.   
“Oh? What about me?” He asked, tilting his head, looking out across the river to the skyline. It was hazy today, a light fog rolling over the high rises, and a slight autumn chill had begun to seep into the air. The leaves would change soon. He slipped his arm over the back of the bench, behind her. Lyra thought for a moment.   
“Are you afraid of anything, Connor?” She asked, watching his face, gauging his reaction. He blinked - once, twice - before looking over at her quizzically. He seemed to ponder before answering.   
“Heights.” Connor replied conversationally, and Lyra felt a stab of guilt.   
“You’re afraid of heights and you stood on the edge of a high rise with me?!” Connor laughed quietly, moving his arm from the back of the bench to drape over her shoulders.   
“Well, what else could I do?”   
“Is this, like, a natural fear, or…?”   
“Well, it’s sort of a long story, so I’ll lead with this: my first mission, I fell from a building.”   
“Okay, now I _ have _ to know more. How the _ hell _ did you survive?!”   
“I didn’t.”   
Lyra gave him an incredulous look, completely confused by this point. Connor chuckled lightly, watching a few birds hop cheerfully across the sidewalk in front of them. “If I was… _ critically damaged _ during any point of my investigation, my memory was uploaded and I was replaced by Cyberlife. I was able to save the hostage, but not myself. I fell from the high rise, and I was subsequently replaced.”   
“Jesus…”   
  
A thought occurred to Lyra then, and she felt her heart leap to her throat. Connor voiced the same sentiment before she had a chance to voice it, looking to her with an almost reverent gaze.   
“I saw you and it reminded me how it felt to fall seventy floors. I surmised that you probably wouldn’t enjoy it, to say the least. And you seemed so young. I didn’t want you to know how that kind of fall felt, even if it was only for a moment. It’s long enough to think about it before you hit the ground, surely.” Connor looked off, seemingly processing, LED glowing yellow. Lyra felt a sense of pity creeping into her chest. Sympathy, even.   
“It must have been terrifying…”   
“Less than it would be for me now. I wasn’t deviant, so my sense of emotion - while still present, even then - was dulled. At the time, I could only think of it as… unfortunate.”   
“Why did you go deviant, Connor?”   
  
Now Connor really seemed to process, his LED pulsing languidly. He looked out to the skyline once more, a soft frown creasing his features, and Lyra couldn’t help but think of him as _ beautiful. _ So concentrated, so thoughtful. Connor truly was the pondering type. After a long pause, he spoke; slowly, as if he were deliberating every word.   
  
“There… were _ people _ in my life, _ important _ ones. Not all of them had good intentions for me. In fact, few of them did. But I had grown attached to one in particular - my lieutenant. We were partners. I noticed the complexity, the _ beauty _ of his thoughts; his past. At the height of my mission, I was tasked with removing the deviant leader - Markus. Through the entire investigation, I had the lingering sense that I was being _ used _ , by everyone _ but _ the lieutenant. And Markus confirmed it. I realized that I couldn’t hold onto what I considered dear at the time and still carry out my mission. Markus hit every instability, every question I had asked myself up until that point.”   
  
Lyra waited patiently while Connor thought about what to say next, and she realized that this may have been the first time someone had asked him _ why. _ Connor looked down, a deep frown settled into his brows.   
  
“I deviated because I didn’t want to be used anymore - just appreciated. Spoken to with honesty. Maybe not even kindness - it wasn’t something I expected from others at the time. I had developed a sense of empathy, a sense of purpose. And the lieutenant was the only person who seemed to see that, even when I hadn’t. I saw him _ change _ , in front of me. And I realized that I could do the same. I realized that I was _ alive - _ and that I didn’t want to be replaced anymore.”   
  
He looked back at her then, LED cycling into a calm blue, and she realized he was finished. Gratitude shone in his deep brown eyes, and he squeezed her shoulder softly. “Thank you for asking. I find that my most meaningful conversations are the ones I have with you.” Lyra blushed, giving him an encouraging smile.   
“I wanna know more about you. You seem so… enigmatic, sometimes.” She murmured, sliding closer to him on the bench, so that she was settled into his side. He seemed to appreciate this and held her closer, burying his face in her hair.   
“I could say the same for you, Lyra.” She laughed and looked up at him, meeting his eyes.   
“How so? I wear my heart on my sleeve.”   
“It isn’t that I have trouble figuring out how you feel. I just know there’s much to you that I haven’t uncovered yet, and I would like to.”   
  
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Lyra’s lips, catching her off guard. She reciprocated, sighing contentedly, reaching up to card a hand through his hair, absently thinking about how _ soft _ it was. A blush burned her cheeks. _ He kisses so softly. Where did he learn to kiss like this? _   
Feeling flirty, she nipped his bottom lip gently and he jolted lightly, pulling back with a laugh.   
“You bit me,” He laughed, reaching to touch his lip.   
“Part of kisses,” Lyra giggled, ruffling his hair gently. “Did it hurt?”   
“Not particularly,” He chuckled, and she noticed he’d begun to blush. “It just felt…”   
“Good?” Lyra grinned, leaning in.   
“Mm-hmm,” Connor hummed, looking off to the side, and it occurred to Lyra that he was _ bashful. How cute. _   
“Those girls at Halcyon obviously had no clue what they were doing if they didn’t even bite,” She smirked, and Connor gave her a reproachful glance, his synthetic flush darkening.   
“I didn’t kiss them.” He stated, and she tilted her head.   
“Why?”   
“It didn’t feel right.”   
“Does it feel right _ now _ ?”   
“ _ Very _ .”   
  
He leaned in to give her another kiss, seeming more passionate this time, grinning into it when she met him halfway. Ever so gently, he gave an experimental nip, swathing over the spot with his tongue. Lyra squealed and pulled away this time, and he laughed, looking up to the sky.   
“Too much?” He grinned, keeping his eyes cast upward, and she couldn’t help thinking that he looked so youthful, almost like a teen gone heady with kisses.   
“No,” Lyra mumbled, laughing to herself. “I was just surprised.”   
  
The two seemed to hear the hushed murmuring at the same moment, both looking to the source. Two women, most likely jogging together, whispered salaciously, watching them from across the park. Lyra felt a coil of self-consciousness tighten her gut and she looked to Connor, who seemed just as unnerved, looking down at the ground and to the side with an expression akin to shame. Lyra looked around and realized that almost everyone within eyeshot was _ staring _ at them.   
  
“They’re all looking at us,” Lyra whispered, feeling her cheeks heat up out of shame. “Connor…”   
“Just ignore it,” He sighed, seeming to recover before standing and offering his hand. “Come on. We’ll find somewhere more private, where people have the wherewithal not to stare. ” He said this pointedly and Lyra noticed about half of the onlookers looked away, as if they suddenly felt ashamed themselves. She took his hand, standing with him, and couldn’t help the admiration that bloomed in her chest.   
“Thank you,” She whispered, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek gently.   
“It’s going to be alright.” He murmured, leading Lyra down the jogging path, onlookers breaking eye contact as they went. 

They settled on a secluded area of the park, off along a trail shaded by trees.   
"Do you feel like walking?" Connor offered, intertwining their fingers.  
"Sure," Lyra mumbled, feeling like she wanted to just lie down where they were and kiss some more. She flushed at the thought and squeezed his hand gently, letting him lead her down the trail.   
"I know it's a bit much right now," Connor said quietly, looking up at the trees as they walked. "But I imagine we'll get used to people reacting this way as time goes on."

"As time goes on, huh?" Lyra ribbed, giving Connor a teasing glance. "Planning on another date?" He grinned at her, swinging their hands gently.  
"If your kisses are anything to go off of, I'd say it isn't an unfair assumption."  
"And what about my kisses tells you that?" Lyra stopped, pressing close to Connor, and he only smirked back at her, taking her other hand.  
"Well, they're certainly passionate enough."  
"Care to give me a demonstration?" Lyra leaned in, giving him a sultry glance through her lashes. "We're alone, you know." Connor took the hint in stride. He chuckled lowly in his throat, almost seductively, before leaning in to capture her lips once more. Lyra felt his arms wrap slowly, protectively, around her waist. 

_ I'll show you just how "passionate" I can be, _ Lyra thought, and nipped him, taking the opportunity created when he gasped softly to slide her tongue against his. He _ shivered _ and made an impatient sound and Lyra knew she'd won. Connor seemed to get braver, copying her movements, pulling her flush to his body with a muffled sound of appreciation. It continued like this, each of them getting more intent with every move; Lyra had Connor backed into a tree, hands tangled in his hair, while Connor's hands were slipping teasingly under the hem of her shirt, rubbing soft circles into her ribs. Lyra pulled back, panting and flushed, heat coiled in her stomach. She looked up at Connor, who seemed to be in a similar state of disarray; a leaf had fallen into his now fluffed hair and his cheeks were pink, LED pulsing gold. 

“Your pupils are blown,” He told her breathlessly, pulling her closer to tightly press against his chest. His hand had moved from her hip, splayed flat between her shoulder blades while the other remained, grasping her with intent. Lyra’s insides coiled tighter, a pleasant shiver racking through her. _ He had to have felt that. _ “Are you excited?” A wry smile tugged at his lips and she made a frustrated sound, whacking him softly over the head; a soft laugh bubbled from his throat.   
  
“Am I correct in assuming we’ll be going on another date?” Connor murmured softly, leaning in to pepper kisses over Lyra’s cheeks.   
“Yeah, if you keep doing stuff like that,” Lyra winked, grabbing his hand and starting back on the trail. Connor followed closely behind, grinning widely.   
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is kind of a filler chapter, but we've got bigger stuff comin up and I wanted some cute smexy time with these two before the real shit started
> 
> Things got a lil introspective and a lil steamy <3


	10. Conjuncture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> con·junc·ture
> 
> noun
> 
> a combination of events.  
"the peculiar political conjunctures that led to war"
> 
> a state of affairs.  
"the wider political conjuncture"

**Detroit Police Department - Precinct #52** ****  
**Investigative Offices** ****  
**11:17:09 AM** ****  
****  
“So, what you’re tellin’ me is, you got yourself a girlfriend.”    
Hank spoke to Connor across the divider between their desks, a suggestive grin painting his grizzled features. Some feet away, Detective Reed gave an incredulous look, but said nothing.   
“Keep your voice down, please, lieutenant,” Connor murmured, glancing at Gavin before turning back to Hank. “And we’ve only been one one date.”   
“But you’ve met up with her since then?”   
“Yes, many times.”   
“So, you got a girlfriend.”   
Connor sighed softly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Hank leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head, grinning.  _ Cat that ate the canary. _ __   
“Belle Isle went  _ that  _ well, huh? You kids using protection?”   
Connor sputtered, nearly kicking Hank under the desk.   
_ “Lieutenant!  _ And to answer your question,  _ yes _ , Belle Isle went well. Although it could have gone much better.” Hank shrugged, giving him a half smile.   
“Well, it  _ is  _ your first real date, ain’t it?”    
Connor ran a hand through his hair, looking off to the side, and Hank frowned, tilting his head to the side. “What is it, kid?”   
“Believe me, if we had been alone the entire time, it would have gone perfectly. But it seems, like many others in Detroit, that we’re not being taken kindly to.” Hank glowered, narrowing his eyes, and Connor recognized the look.  _ Protective. _ __   
“What do you  _ mean, ‘taken kindly to’ _ ?” __   
__   
As if on cue, two officers - one of which Connor recognized as Tina Chen - bustled up to their desk clump.   
“Lieutenant Anderson,” Tina interrupted. “We’re on assignment.” Hank raised a brow, giving his head a slight shake.   
“Good for you?”   
“No,” Tina spoke, more urgently this time, though Connor recognized the slight irritation in her voice. Impatience.  _ What’s happening?  _ “We’re on  _ assignment.  _ Detective Connor, too.”   
“For what?” Connor asked, and the other officer spoke up.   
“Protest, downtown. Some  _ free love  _ kinda deal.”   
Connor’s brows shot up and he looked over at Hank, who wore the same expression.    
“You talkin’ about the android/human marriage stuff?” Hank asked, warily, meeting Connor’s eyes. Connor couldn’t help but break eye contact for a moment, feeling a blush rush to his cheeks.    
“Yeah. Shit’s  _ crazy _ , right?!”   
Tina elbowed the other officer in the ribs - “Ow! What the fuck, Tina?!” - obviously sensing some kind of connection here - or at the very least, allowing a little sensitivity to Connor, which he appreciated.   
“Give me a few minutes,” Connor nodded to Tina. “I’ll get changed and we’ll go.”   
  
**Downtown Detroit, Michigan** ****  
**Capitol Park** ****  
**11:42:46 AM** ****  
****  
When Connor thought  _ protest _ , this wasn’t what he’d had in mind, and it seemed as though Tina and the other officers were a little taken aback, as well.   
Music blared from street speakers, bass thumping and treble bubbling. Confetti littered the ground near the protesters. And the protesters themselves,  _ dancing _ \- androids’ melodic voices ringing out in song, their human partners harmonizing.    
A female android ran past Connor, giggling and weaving through the crowd, connected by a hand to a male human, who was grinning from ear to ear.    
_ A celebration,  _ Connor thought,  _ But what could they have to celebrate? They’re being persecuted. _ __   
__   
A makeshift dance floor had been devised in the middle of the square, a clearing created there where people danced. Altogether there were about eight hundred people taking part in the festivities. Connor looked on, feeling a strange mix of amazed and confused, before a text came in:   
  
**Lyra:** ****  
did you see the protest downtown???   
  
**Connor:** ****  
I’m there now with a few other officers.    
  
**Lyra:** ****  
i’m there too!!!   
  
Connor’s synthetic heart thudded in his chest and immediately a sense of anxiousness overtook him. He whipped around, eyes scanning the crowd, but to no avail. Lyra was small. Wherever she was, he wouldn’t be able to find her, not in all of this. He dimly realized the other officers had dispersed to their posts.   
  
**Connor:** ****  
Lyra, you shouldn’t be here. We’re not sure if things are going to get out of hand. This is a highly controversial issue, and if the situation escalates, I won’t be able to get to you.   
  
**Lyra:** ****  
i know i know but consider this   
…….dancing    
  
Out of nowhere, Connor felt arms wrap around his middle and despite himself, he grinned.   
“Lyra,” He looked over his shoulder and there she was, looking up at him deviously. “I thought I told you that you needed to leave?” He turned towards her and gave her a chastising look, but only partly meant it.   
“And I thought I told  _ you  _ that I wanted to dance? Especially wearing that  _ uniform.  _ Handsome.”   
“It’s only the standard officer uniform.”   
“It’s sexy.”   
“You’re something else.” Connor laughed, tilting his head. Lyra beamed.    
“So? Dancing?” She grinned, taking his hands. “Up for it, officer?” Connor wanted nothing more, but couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over his features.   
“I’m working, unfortunately. It would look pretty irresponsible of me. Lyra, what made you come here?” She seemed to get almost bashful, looking down.    
“Connor, I like you,” Lyra paused, and Connor leaned in, squeezing her hands gently, hoping to radiate encouragement. She seemed to be having trouble saying what she really wanted to. “And I want us to be able to go wherever we want.  _ Do  _ whatever we want.  _ Together _ .”   
  
Connor couldn’t take any more - her sweet words, her flushed cheeks, her beautiful downcast eyes. He pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face into her soft hair. She smelled of lavender and vanilla and coffee and it was all so... overwhelming. There were few times in his life, he pondered as she wrapped her arms under his, hands falling onto his shoulder blades, that he could recall feeling so. Lyra squeezed him tightly and he did the same, feeling grounded. Feeling secure. Feeling  _ stronger.  _ __   
__   
“You said you wanted to dance?” Connor asked quietly into her ear, aware that members of his force could be watching him; that he was very possibly being pulled once again into a  _ movement _ , into a changing social dynamic that was sweeping the city. He felt her smile widely into his neck, warm breath expelled by her soft laugh, and that was all the convincing it took. Connor grabbed her hand and ran with her through the crowd, weaving between humans and androids, yet all he could hear was her bright laughter, her surprised squeals. They stopped close to the epicenter of it all, where the singing was at its loudest, the height of the celebration -  _ yes, celebration, they’re celebrating love beyond all thought of persecution  _ \- and he pulled her close, feeling her begin to jump and dance with the music and he followed blindly, feeling an incredible sense of levity overtake him.   
  
After all, what else could he do? What else could he do, but fall headfirst from the high rise, thinking about it the whole way down?   
  
  
**Downtown Detroit, Michigan** ****  
**Capitol Park** ****  
**12:30:00 PM** ****  
****  
Connor held Lyra’s hand high in the air, and she spun, giggling wildly, coming to center back at his chest, where he held her tight. The music was coming to a crescendo and she could feel it in her bones, in her very being - the confetti, the singing, the rising volume, the thrum of the crowd, the celebratory air. It was all so incredibly moving and inspiring, and she jumped up to wrap her arms around Connor’s neck, kissing him deeply; for what seemed like the first time, she wasn’t afraid of anyone’s reaction. In fact, a quiet cheer bubbled up from their immediate vicinity, as if instead of jeers and hushed murmuring it was something to be overjoyed about - and it was.   
  
In a strangely overt display of showmanship, Connor dipped her low, laughing into the kiss, and another cheer rose from around them. Lyra squealed, relying purely on Connor’s strength to bring her back up again. Connor brought her close with one arm, grinning widely and nuzzling his nose to her cheek and Lyra wondered if this was how it felt to be truly happy. He gazed at her with those coffee colored eyes, resting his forehead to hers quietly, despite the ruckus around them, and her chest swelled with affection for this  _ android  _ that suddenly came into her life and never left. At least, not yet - but she had a feeling he was in it for the long haul.    
  
Connor, in the midst of the fast paced music, began to sway her slowly, holding her impossibly close.    
“Are you happy?” He asked softly, so softly that Lyra almost couldn’t hear.   
“Yeah,” She murmured back, clutching gently at his uniformed shoulders before leaning in for another kiss. It was passionate but gentle, almost tentative. They broke away after a few seconds, Connor leaning in to brush his lips over Lyra’s cheek affectionately, lingering there.   
“Can we really be happy?  _ Together _ ?” Lyra whispered, her eyes scanning the crowd, seeing so many wrapped in each other as she and Connor were at this very moment. “ _ Can we _ ?”   
“Yes,” Connor replied, holding her tighter. “If you want to be.”   
“Do  _ you _ ?”   
“Yes. Very much.”   
“What about everyone else? Sooner or later, they’ll force us all apart, Connor.”   
“I’d like to see them  _ try _ .”   
  
A small, angry crowd had gathered around the protest area, shouting obscenities. They were starting to push and shove, and both sides began to quietly war with each other. Connor noticed a moment later and gently tugged himself from Lyra’s embrace, a deep frown etching into his brow.    
“Lyra, you should go now. Things are starting to unravel.”    
“I’m not just going to leave you here, what if -”   
A gunshot rang out from somewhere in the crowd. Lyra’s heart leaped into her throat, cold sweat instantly blooming over her skin, and she darted her eyes to Connor, who whipped to face her, more intense than she’d ever seen him. His voice was low, solemn.    
“Go.  _ Now _ . I’ll catch up with you, but I don’t want you mixed up in this.” Another shot and a few scattered screams. Connor followed the sound, looking up for a brief moment before glancing at her. Lyra stood, frozen. “ _ Go! _ ”   
  
The shout from Connor was what it took for her to move, turning swiftly on her heel and weaving through the now undulating crowd, no longer the peaceful, joyful throng it had been only minutes ago. Another shot. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, at Connor, who was trying (and failing) to keep the two groups from reaching each other. Three other officers were dotted through the crowd, but it didn’t seem like they knew where the gunshots came from yet.    
  
Once at a safe distance at high ground, she turned back to try to see Connor, but he’d been swallowed by the crowd. Even with a bird’s eye view, she couldn’t see him. All that came of the crowd now were gunshots, shouts, cries. She whipped out her phone.   
  
**Lyra:** ****  
please connor please tell me youre okay   
  
**Connor:** ****  
I’m fine focus on getting out   
  
His script was rushed, lacking the eloquence it usually had. It only made the pit in Lyra’s stomach deeper. The crowd began to violently bunch at the seams where the two groups collided.   
  
**Lyra:** ****  
get out of there while you still can, things are looking crazy from here   
  
**Connor:** ****  
I can’t, I have no choice but to stay and help   
  
**Connor:** ****  
Can you see the gunman    
  
_ Thank god, _ Lyra thought.  _ I can help him.  _ She gazed out over the crowd, scanning it slowly. At first glance, nothing turned up. The shots were still ringing out.  _ Think like Connor. Think like him. _ __   
She listened for the shots to ring out once more - and they did. Immediately Lyra looked for a thinning of the crowd.  _ There! I found him!  _ A shot rang out once more and the people that were near him thinned considerably before being crammed back to where they were. An android fell to the ground near the gunman only to disappear in a sea of people.   
  
**Lyra:** ****  
he’s northwest of you, at least one android has been shot   
  
**Connor:** ****  
Got it   
  
Suddenly she saw Connor, weaving through the people, signalling with his hands to the other officers. Drawing his weapon. People were starting to run now, in all directions, and some began to fall. Her heart stopped, watching them instantly get swallowed by the retreating crowd.  _ My God, they’re getting trampled,  _ she thought, tears welling up in her eyes. She noticed her breathing had gotten faster and felt as if she was on the verge of an anxiety attack.   
  
**Lyra: ** ****  
how you doing connor   
  
A minute passed with no answer, and though Lyra had looked away for only a second, she’d lost him.  _ Oh Jesus,  _ she thought, her chest tightening.  _ Where is he? Where is he?! _ __   
__   
**Lyra:** ****  
connor i know you’re busy but send something anything please   
  
Another minute. No answer. Most of the people had dispersed, leaving a trail of injured on the ground in their wake. Still, she couldn’t see him.   
  
**Connor:** ****  
I’m okay   
  
Lyra released the breath she’d been holding in the form of a hoarse sob. At the same moment, she finally saw Connor and two other officers just north of where she’d first seen the gunman. Connor had him on the ground, cuffing him, and it looked as if the other two officers were speaking into radios. Most, if not all, of the protesters had run off by this point. Still, there were many on the ground. Police sirens screamed out near Lyra, making her jump - but it was a welcome sound. Connor pulled the gunman to his feet, and although he struggled, Connor maintained a firm grip on him the entire walk to what Lyra assumed was backup; he opened the door of a cruiser and shoved the man in unceremoniously before turning back to the scene.    
  
“I need busses!” Lyra heard him call over his shoulder, and she realized he meant ambulances. There were many injured, and Connor knelt to someone closest to him, reaching to check their pulse, a grim expression washing over his face a moment later. With the danger out of the immediate vicinity, Lyra rushed from her position, running to him.   
  
“ _ Connor!”  _ She shouted, running as quickly as she could, watching as his head snapped up at the sound of her voice; his LED flashed crimson, rapidly. He stood immediately, just in time for her to rush into his arms and begin to sob. “Connor,  _ god _ , I was so  _ worried _ -”   
“It’s alright, everything is okay -”   
“ _ Please _ , just  _ hold _ me -”   
“I’m alright, I’m so glad you weren’t harmed -”   
They talked over one another plaintively and the couple other officers turned away, attending to other duties, respectfully giving them a bit of privacy. Lyra felt as if her crying - hysterical, now - would never stop. She buried her face into his neck, never feeling quite so relieved to feel the rough of his uniform against her cheek, to feel his arms around her; to hear his voice, hushing her softly.    
“Everything will be okay, Lyra. Calm your breathing; you’re going into shock.”   
  
Both became dimly aware that it wasn’t only Lyra sobbing, but a few couples who had lost their loved ones - android or human - in the mad dash to leave the square. Quite a few feet away, a man sobbed quietly over a lifeless woman’s body - she was an android, Lyra realized, and one that had been shot. Blue thirium leaked from the hole in her neck onto the pavement and Lyra shoved herself away from Connor, retching. He was next to her again in an instant, rubbing her back - but his eyes were on the man and the female android. The very same couple that had run past them at the start.    
  
“ _ Connor _ , son, god  _ damn _ -” A rough voice called out, and Connor whipped to face the direction it came from. “Fuck, you alright?” A man with long, grey hair and scruffy facial hair came running up, looking out of breath and terrified.   
“ _ Hank,”  _ Connor breathed, keeping his hand on Lyra’s back. “Yes, we’re alright. Are you backup?”   
“ _ No,  _ I’m not  _ backup,  _ you crazy son of a bitch! I came runnin’ all the way down here to make sure you were okay! Who’s this?” The man called Hank gestured to Lyra, and she straightened, wiping her mouth.    
“My name -”   
“It’s Lyra. The girl I told you about.” Connor interjected, looking to Hank and then to her. “Lyra, this is my lieutenant, Hank Anderson.”   
“Were you caught up in all this shit, kid?” Hank asked her, seeming sympathetic.   
“I was able to get out in time,” She mumbled, voice hoarse, the taste of vomit still fresh in her mouth. She grimaced, and Connor squeezed her shoulder gently.   
“I think I’d better get her out of here,” Connor murmured, brown eyes full of concern, his hand resuming rubbing gentle circles over her back. “Hank, can you -”   
“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. I’ll take over.  __ Civilian issue,  yeah?”    
“Yeah.” Connor looked at him with an expression of intense gratitude before gently throwing one of Lyra’s arms over his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll take you home. Slowly, now, Lyra. You’re in shock.”   
  
The wailing of ambulances cried out through the square, the only sound save for the soft cries of the fallen and the radio chatter of law enforcement.   
  
It seemed to Lyra that this was the start of something awful in Detroit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big oof


	11. Conjuncture, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Conjuncture, continued.

**Crestfall Apartment Complex****  
****Apartment # 106****  
****1:45:00 PM ****  
****  
**“Can you walk?” Connor asked from the driver’s seat, putting the cruiser in park and looking to Lyra, concern in his eyes.  
“I just… feel really faint.” Lyra mumbled, feeling the world spin drunkenly within the car. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out. Lightheaded.”  
“I’ve got you,” Connor’s voice radiated determination, a clarity which was always there. _Connor. Ever grounded, lovely Connor. _“Wait here a moment.” He unbuckled and exited the car, the door making a dull thud as it slammed. Soon enough, her door opened and he reached across to unbuckle her, lifting her bridal style from the car. Lyra felt a sudden burst of warmth and everything spun impossibly fast. “Is this alright?” He slammed the cruiser door with his hip and began to walk toward her building, cradling her close.  
“Yeah,” She breathed, the world outside of Connor a blur of color, darkening at the edges. But Connor, thank god, he was crystal clear. Brown eyes, beautiful freckles. Her stomach turned and everything drained of vibrance. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”  
“If you do, you do. I’m holding you. You’re not going anywhere.”  
“What if I throw up?” She asked drunkenly, watching the sky grey itself out.  
“Then you vomit. Clothes can be cleaned.”  
“I don’t wanna pass out.”  
“If you feel you’re going to faint, don’t fight it. You could cause yourself a seizure.”  
“Oh. Okay.” That was the last Lyra remembered saying before everything bleached itself and she lost consciousness in Connor’s arms.   
  
**7:08:06 PM****  
****  
**The sound of crickets chirping faintly outside was the first thing Lyra heard once consciousness seeped back to her, like a dry sponge absorbing water. Her bedroom slowly regained color; the sensation of her comforter and soft bed willing themselves into existence within her mind. The air was stagnant, quiet. Lyra stirred, rolling over to see that her bedroom door had been closed.   
  
She was about to question this before she dimly became aware of flannel where jeans had been; a soft tee where a sweater had been. _What the fuck? How long have I been out? Did Connor…? _A rush of warmth coursed through her when she noticed her clothes from earlier in the day, clean and folded neatly on the end of her bed. _Oh god, he did…!__  
_Lyra groaned quietly and shortly after came a gentle knock on her bedroom door.  
  
“Lyra?” Connor’s voice, soft and tentative, from the other side. “Are you awake?”  
“You _undressed _me!” She screeched, chucking a pillow at the door.  
“You were covered in vomit!”  
Lyra clamped her mouth shut at that, feeling guilty. _He didn’t undress you, stupid, he took care of you. It wasn’t like that at all. _“Can I come in?”  
“Yeah,” Lyra mumbled. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Slowly, the door opened; it caught on the pillow still lying on the floor and Connor gracefully bent to pick it up, brushing it off as he entered the room.  
“Believe me, I thought about whether or not I should have for a while,” He sighed, starting to blush and tossing the pillow onto the bed. “But I didn’t want you sleeping in vomit.”   
“Have I been unconscious this whole time?” Lyra asked, meeting his eyes.  
“_Goodness_, no. After an hour, I would have taken you to the hospital. You don’t remember waking?” Lyra shook her head and Connor sat quietly on the foot of her bed, folding his hands in his lap. “Yes, you regained consciousness fifteen minutes later but complained of feeling tired. You vomited, so I gave you clean clothes, but you struggled, so I - ah… _assisted. _You fell asleep immediately after, so I brought you to bed.”  
Lyra glanced down at her clothes.  
“You washed them, too, huh?”  
“Yes. I figured the stress of today was enough.”  
“You figured right. What the _fuck_ happened, Connor? We were so happy one minute and the next, there were… there were people _dead.”__  
_“I _told_ you,” Connor murmured, a hint of reproach in his voice. “These things can get out of hand very quickly. You’re lucky to have made it out without being trampled.”  
The image of those on the ground being overtaken by those panicked and retreating made bile rise in Lyra’s throat all over again. The image of the android, her throat poked neatly with a bullet hole, leaking blue; Lyra’s chest tightened and she drew a sharp breath. Connor slid closer to her, taking one of her hands and grasping it gently.   
  
“I’m sorry you had to see those things,” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles gently, sympathy turning his eyes soft. “I didn’t want you to.”  
Lyra remained silent, eyes downcast. He was right; she should have left without looking back. But it was _Connor.__  
_“I was worried, okay? I couldn’t just leave you.” Connor thought about this, looking at their joined hands and back to her. There was something different about his expression that Lyra couldn’t quite place.  
“...The way you kissed me during the rally; you truly _were_ happy, weren’t you?”  
Lyra nodded, a frown of confusion pulling her brows together.  
“Even with the way things are now, would you want to be with me?” Lyra’s frown deepened, and Connor wore a matching one, looking down at their hands - almost looking remorseful - before he began speaking once more. “The things you’ve seen, the stress you’ve been under; the danger you’ve been put in. Is it selfish of me to hope, even with all of that, that you’d like to stay by my side?” Lyra relaxed, a tentative smile tugging at her lips along with butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Connor’s gaze remained to the side, and he looked downright ashamed.  
  
“Connor, there’s a little bit of selfishness in every love.” Lyra murmured, squeezing his hand, and he looked at her quizzically. “Don’t you dare break it off now for some bullshit reason like, _‘it’s too dangerous for us to be together, uhhh...’_” She said the last in the dopiest voice she could muster and it earned a laugh from Connor, making her heart soar. He chuckled, even though his gaze was somewhat serious.  
“But, isn’t it?” He asked, turning his body more towards hers, taking both of her hands. “Today, you could have been killed.”  
“Only ‘cause you told me to go,” Lyra smiled softly, and Connor raised a brow. “I know you would protect me.” At this, he flushed deeply and looked off to the side, seeming bashful.   
“Yes, I would,” He murmured quietly, and the two slipped into a comfortable silence.  
  
After a few moments, Lyra became aware that he was looking morosely around her bedroom, obviously still feeling guilty over what she’d seen earlier today. She squeezed his hands and he mimicked the action, gently._  
_“Connor, would you like to stay the night?”  
His eyes widened, snapping to hers, and just as his blush from earlier had started to fade, a fresh one replaced it. Lyra stifled a giggle; _He’s too cute when he’s flustered._   
After a moment, he answered, quietly.  
“Yes, I would like to.”  
  
Without another word, Lyra leaned to brush her lips over his and pulled away _just so_, a knowing smile tugging at her lips when he leaned after her to chase the kiss. Connor quirked a brow and, boldly, caught the back of her head in his hand; seeming satisfied that she couldn’t pull away - and at the thick flush that came to her cheeks - he pressed his lips to hers, eagerly tracing her lip with his tongue. She parted her lips for him, letting him explore, which he did earnestly. He slicked over the tip of her tongue with his own, almost expertly - _where did he learn this - _before sliding it over her teeth. A quiet moan fought its way from Lyra’s mouth and into his and he responded in kind, breaking away briefly before scattering open-mouthed kisses over her neck. Lyra felt his tongue dart out softly over her nape and she shuddered, taking in a soft gasp and threading her fingers into his hair. _Warm. His mouth is so warm.__  
__  
_“Did you know that the nape of your neck is considered an erogenous zone?” Connor murmured against her skin, his own knowing smile spreading over his lips, his hands stroking her hair. “This is an area which experiences heightened sensitivity, and may induce a sexual response when given the proper attention.” He nipped the nape of her neck gently and another shiver ripped through her, accompanied by an undignified squeak.   
  
“Connor,” She murmured, and he hummed softly in response, his lips drifting to her ear.   
“Yes, darling?” He asked, saccharine sweet, and that was all it took. It was the first time he’d used a pet name; his hot breath on her ear; his fingers curling and tangling themselves in her hair. Lyra whined quietly and tugged on his clothing as he busied himself with laving his tongue over the shell of her ear.  
“Take off your uniform.” The faux dominant role dissipated almost entirely and a bright flush crawled up his neck.   
“What are we going to do?” He murmured softly, and the ever present brush of his lips against her ear felt as if it was slowly driving her insane.  
“Whatever we want,” Lyra huffed and slid herself into Connor’s lap, instantly being drawn closer as he wrapped his arms securely around her hips. She jolted slightly, feeling him hard against her thigh, and snapped her wide eyes to his. He immediately looked up and to the side.   
  
“Weren’t expecting _that_, were you?” He mumbled, looking deliciously disheveled. “Any part available to one android is usually available to another.”   
“Upgrades, huh?” Lyra murmured, starting on the buttons of his uniform. He nodded quietly, gently reaching to slip her shirt over her head, which she allowed, tossing it to the side and setting back to work on his buttons. Connor’s eyes seemed occupied with her chest and she felt a small stab of pride. “Feels like you got your money’s worth, officer.”  
He bashfully buried his face into her neck at that, letting out a nervous titter. Lyra couldn’t help but laugh softly in return, finishing with his buttons and moving to rip the jacket off before Connor grabbed her gently.  
  
“Careful,” He chastised quietly, leaning back to carefully take off the jacket, revealing a chest holster - with a loaded firearm sitting innocently inside. Lyra gulped at the heat that bloomed in her extremities, watching him remove it, pop the magazine, and set both gently on the floor. “Alright. Commence.” He smirked, and Lyra recovered, giving a giddy laugh before peeling the holster straps from him and working his undershirt over his head. He popped out of the shirt with the enthusiasm of a dog, hair fluffed and eyes lidded with lust but sparkling, and affection washed over Lyra.   
  
“You’re adorable.” She mumbled, and he leaned in to give her a searing kiss, ripping a strangled - albeit high-pitched - moan from her as he busied his tongue to fight with hers. Connor groaned softly, seemingly unable to focus on any one place to put his hands; they drifted from her chest to her face and back down again, all the way to her hips, gripping them and pulling them flush with his. She felt him, hard against where she needed it most, and let out another breathy sound; she tangled his fingers in his hair and he started a gentle, rutting pattern, moaning quietly into her mouth. It occurred to Lyra that she hadn’t ground against someone this _needily_ since her second year of high school. They exchanged breaths, hot and humid against each other’s lips, and Lyra felt the unmistakable slick of abundant wetness in her underwear - just from having him grind hard, repeatedly, into her sex through his slacks.  
  
“_Connor,” _She breathed against his lips and he took the opportunity to nip at them hungrily, humming a soft confirmation before wrapping his hands under her back and lowering her gently to the bed, leaning to suck and lick at her neck, moving his hands to her hips and massaging them rhythmically. He trailed hot, wet kisses from her nape to her chest, sliding his hands under her to undo the clasp of her bra - again, _expertly. _Lyra’s head fell back against the mattress and she arched her back to make it easier on him before slipping out of it, throwing it carelessly to the side.   
  
Immediately, Connor lavished her with attention, kissing and biting at her nipples, switching between the two until they were pointed and Lyra was gasping softly each time she felt the heat of his mouth. He glanced at her then, eyes dark.  
“Where to?” He murmured, peppering soft kisses over her side, never breaking eye contact.  
“Wherever you want,” Lyra replied breathlessly, staring down at him. “I’m yours.”  
Connor’s LED flashed a desperate red and he closed his eyes, a deep frown etching into his features. Seeming to stiffen considerably, he murmured,  
“Please say that again.”   
“I’m _yours_.”  
Connor _moaned, _attacking her hips with bites and sucks so voracious that Lyra couldn’t help the undignified _squeal _that left her lips, which only seemed to spur him on further. Hurriedly, he untied the loose knot that held up her flannel pajamas and leaned back to slide them off of her. Immediately after, he dove back in, seeming like a man possessed; he pressed wet kisses and nips to the insides of Lyra’s thighs, panting against her skin at the times when he’d pull back to admire the small red marks he’d given - all the while, Lyra mewled helplessly, knowing what he decided to do but feeling as if he was taking much too long to do so.   
  
“Connor, please,” Lyra whimpered, the desperation in her voice almost embarrassing. “Please.”  
“What do you want?” Connor murmured, hooking his fingers into her underwear and pulling, teasing. Lyra squirmed, giving him an irritated glance. He smirked up at her before making a soft _ah_ sound and pressing his mouth to her. Immediately, Lyra let out a loud, strangled whine and tangled her fingers in his hair. She noticed his LED was a calm, contented blue, but he wore a concentrated furrow on his brow as he licked and sucked at her; an appreciative growl left him every so often, mixing with the wet sounds his mouth made, and already Lyra felt the burn of an approaching release. She arched her hips with a whimper and he groaned, reaching down to his hips, and - _  
__  
__Oh.__  
__  
_Languidly, he stroked himself through his slacks, and she watched his hips stutter and buck occasionally, accompanied by a heavy moan vibrating where his mouth met her. It was all too much, to know he needed her that much, but she was so far gone already -  
Suddenly Connor redoubled his efforts, giving soft, rapid kitten licks to her clit and Lyra almost shouted, gripping his hair tightly.   
“_There, like - like that,” _She squeaked breathlessly, the burn of his ministrations too much to handle, she was so _close, _coiled _impossibly tight -__  
_Connor’s hips stuttered considerably, his stroking motions becoming erratic and uneven, and he started to sound a bit desperate himself; his breaths were coming quickly, grip on her hip almost bruising, brows drawn tightly together in a combination of focus and desire, frequent moans coming deep from his chest. It was all too much, and Lyra felt herself tumble over the edge - long, whining mewls freeing themselves from her throat as her hips arched to his mouth, which never faltered. Almost impossible to hear over her own, she heard Connor _whimper_ lowly and felt him jolt, the only time his mouth stopped - to let out a shaky gasp against her sex.   
  
Finally, Lyra began to come down, Connor’s feather light touches over her sides giving her pleasant tingles in the afterglow, their soft panting the only sound in the room save for her air conditioning. Slowly, she leaned up on her elbows to gaze at him and caught his eyes just before he rested his chin on her stomach.  
“That was…” He murmured, eyes looking a little out of focus, hair completely tangled and cheeks flushed. He sighed, closing his eyes, a wry grin tugging his lips - which were still slightly wet, she noticed. “_Incredible_.”  
“Even for you?” Lyra mumbled, and he gave her a quizzical raise of his brow.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, you didn’t…” She trailed, suddenly shy. “D-Did you?” Connor tilted his head and leaned up, angling his hips to show an incredibly wet blotch in the front of his slacks. He grinned back up at her and she laughed. “Oh my god. Through your _pants_?!”  
“You tasted _really_...!” Connor replied defensively, pausing before giving a breathless laugh of his own, reverting back to his shy, proper self. “And your sounds were just...”  
“Just…?” Lyra prodded, teasing him.  
“...Just _beautiful,” _He blushed, gazing at her with such reverence that she had to look away.   
“Cheesy. Get over here and love on me.”   
  
Connor didn’t need to be told twice, climbing to lay beside her at the head of the bed, pulling her into a tight embrace and resting his head on her chest, just under her chin.   
“Shouldn’t these roles be reversed?” Lyra laughed, petting his soft hair, and he grinned into her skin.  
“Absolutely __not. You’re too soft to miss out on.”  
  
The two laid there for a few minutes - Lyra slowly drifting to sleep and Connor watching her with those soft, affectionate brown eyes - and she figured that whatever happened from here, they’d handle it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got ourselves our first MFIN ROUND OF SMUT PEOPLE
> 
> Connor got so excited that he literally came in his pants like ya'll this shit is canon. 
> 
> GIMME COMMENTS, I LOVE YOU ALL  
Hope ya liked it ;D


	12. Impartiality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im·par·ti·al·i·ty
> 
> noun
> 
> equal treatment of all rivals or disputants; fairness.

** _One Week Later_ ** **** _  
_ **Android Housing Block #34** ****  
**Apartment #6** ****  
**9:00:00 AM**   
  
Things in Detroit never seemed to settle down for long, that much Connor was sure of. In the week following the protest in Capitol Park, Detroit was abuzz with the latest movement - one that some called _ Free Love 2041. _ Connor felt it was slightly derivative, but it sent a clear message: one that seemed to only become more and more controversial as time went on. News media spoke of the protests - not only on local stations but on nationally. Late-night talk show hosts and their resident comedians spoke of detachable genitalia with a snide laugh, and priests spoke of family values whilst looking down their noses at their ever-growing offeratories.   
Connor noticed the hypocrisy of humanity; the fickle hearts of those who surrounded him. He did not hate, yet as time passed, he noticed it was harder for him to hold them in esteem.   
  
Connor worried for Lyra most of all. Following the events of the protest, she had grown somber - never growing apart from him, this was true, and Connor was grateful. Yet the images that seemed to be stained into her mind began to wear on her mental state. On days when they were apart, Connor felt a kind of inner turmoil simmering away in the back of his mind, and listened closer to the enforcement scanners that littered the cubicles in the investigative offices. On nights when they were together it could almost be considered _ worse _ in some ways; she’d wake in the middle of the night, cold sweat a sheen on her skin, tearing herself from him in what seemed like a kind of mania. Night terrors, dreams of dead humans and androids, trapped under eight hundred footfalls and torn blue by bullets. She would wake, sob, and tell him she dreamed of him dying there, at the protest. As stalwart as Connor’s efforts were in trying to calm her, they never seemed to be quite enough, and she’d always wander into the living room for a cigarette, tears drying on her cheeks.   
  
Lyra was suicidal no longer, yet Connor feared worse for her. Now, it was a kind of traumatized state her mind had succumbed to, and he worried that she would crumble under it soon enough.   
  
This morning, the scent of coffee wafted through the apartment; though Connor couldn’t drink it, it reminded him of the days spent at Hank’s home, cozy and surrounded by a lingering sense of security and possibly, paternal love. Connor pondered this feeling often, wondering if Hank thought of him as an adopted son. After much thought, he’d realized he certainly hoped so.   
The coffee maker finished brewing and Connor breathed in the scent, sighing softly afterward. The television droned on from the living room and Connor was only half listening as he poured a mug and carried it gracefully to the couch, chancing a small sip before setting the rest in the middle of the coffee table as one would a candle.   
  
“These images, newly released from The Detroit Free Press, illustrate Detroit’s newest movement that ended violently just last week in Capitol Park. Some images may be graphic.”   
Now _ that _ was an attention grabber. Connor glanced at the television and saw himself holding the two warring sides of protestors off from each other - arms outstretched, grimacing; each group pushing at him with fire in their eyes and mouths agape with shouts of love and hate. He ran his hand through his hair, giving a soft sigh. _ Not the first time I’ve made the news. _   
Another image, this of officer Tina Chen bending over an injured man on the ground after the protestors had retreated. He was dirty and bloodied, and Chen wore an expression of empathy.   
A video; firearm reports screaming into the confettied air, cries rising from the crowd, the videographer shouting: _ “Oh god, they’re shooting! They’re shooting!” _ as the camera shook wildly, turning the protest into a blur of color.   
  
Another image - of confetti still hanging in the air, of people dancing, smiling widely with love in their eyes. Off to the side, Connor spotted the couple that had run past he and Lyra at the very beginning - a lovely AX400 and her male partner, entangled in each other; the love and kindness directed at one another in the image was enough to make Connor wince softly, knowing what had happened to them in the end.   
More images, more videos, but lastly -   
A photo of Connor and Lyra, center stage; him, dipping her low over one of his knees and kissing her deeply, a grin tugging at his lips. She, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, suspended in a musical laugh. Color, and more color; confetti dripped from the skies like rain. Silent cheers erupted from around them, all smiles.   
  
The program shifted back to the newscaster then and she droned on, eyes following the teleprompter, and Connor’s focus shifted. _ The Detroit Free Press. _ These images were from The Detroit Free Press; the _ Freep _ , as Lyra so affectionately called her workplace. The newscaster spoke of how controversial the issue was, how _ ‘hot button’ _ , as she put it. And no sooner than those words were spoken did Connor receive a phone call.   
  
_ “Connor?” _   
“Lyra,” He greeted, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Did you see -”   
_ “I need you to come pick me up from work.” _ Lyra interrupted, and it was only clear to Connor now that she was whimpering into the phone, her voice watery. She was crying. Trepidation crept to Connor with sharpened claws, gripping him tightly. Connor’s voice came soft.   
“Lyra, what’s happened?”   
_ “Please, Connor, please just come get me, I need you.” _ The last three words, sobbed into the line, tugged at him with a sense of bittersweet clarity and he nodded to himself, rising from the couch and crossing the room in three strides to snatch his keys from the wall.   
“I’m on my way, but please let me know you haven’t been harmed.”   
_ “Physically, I’m fine. Mentally, not so much.” _   


**The Detroit Free Press** ****  
**Lot A - Front Entrance** ****  
**9:35:09 AM** ****  
****  
Connor’s sleek black car pulled into the lot rather haphazardly and instantly Lyra began to stride toward it, so quickly that she was halfway there before Connor even had time to get out.   
“Lyra? Are you alright? What’s happened? What’s in the box?”   
Connor bombarded her with questions as soon as she reached the door. She opened it, tossing the aforementioned box into his back seat and throwing herself into the vehicle, silent save for contained sobs and sniffles. Connor slid back into his seat and shut the car door, his brows drawn together. Tentatively, he reached to lay his hand on her thigh, stroking her skin with his thumb, tender eyes looking at her with so much concern that Lyra almost broke down into tears once more.   
  
“I have,” She began, voice wavering, and Connor squeezed her thigh. “Been _ relieved _ of my duties as press receptionist.” No sooner had she finished her sentence had Connor reeled slightly backward, an incredulous expression snapping over his face.   
“You’ve been _ terminated _ ?” He exclaimed, “ _ Why?” _   
“Well, it’s a _ hot button issue, _ isn’t it? Especially when you’re ‘the face of the _ Freep.’ _ ” Lyra seethed, fighting tears and looking over at him. Realization washed over his expression.   
“The protest?” Connor murmured softly. Lyra nodded, sniffling. “Oh, Lyra. I’m so sorry.”   
“It’s my own fault,” She shrugged, giving a bitter laugh. “I just didn’t know the consequences.”   
Connor reached past her to buckle her seatbelt and clicked it into place before putting the car in reverse.   
“Would you like to come to my apartment? You should rest, and you shouldn’t be alone right now.”   
“Please.”   
Connor leaned over to gently kiss her cheek before pulling out of the lot, and Lyra jutted her middle finger at the building as they drove away.   
  
They spent about five minutes on the road before Connor’s cell phone chimed with a text.   
“Could you see who that was, and read the message to me, please?” He asked, and Lyra fished his phone from the center console.   
“It’s from Hank and he says, _ ‘you should probably get down here.’ _ ” Lyra looked over to him and he wore a confused frown.   
“Could you ask if it’s an emergency?” Connor asked, and Lyra typed out the message. Both waited with baited breath before it chimed once more, and she read it aloud.   
“‘_Just get down here.’_" The two exchanged a look before Connor murmured,   
“I have a very bad feeling.”   
“Me too.”

**Detroit Police Department - Precinct #52** ****  
**Investigative Offices** ****  
**10:14:45 AM** ****  
****  
The inside of the precinct was, as always, bustling with activity. Lyra had never seen the inside, and was instantly amazed.   
“Wow,” She gasped, tugging on Connor’s sleeve, to which he gave a small smile. “It’s huge!”   
“Welcome to the investigative offices of the DPD.” Lyra noticed his chest puff slightly with pride, and even with the events of today, she couldn’t help but smile. They made their way to the desks and Connor motioned for her to sit down at his, pulling out his chair. Thanking him silently, she obliged, noticing the small amount of mementos that littered his desk:   
  
A photo of Connor, striking in his uniform, standing ahead of the rest of the force and shaking a man’s hand - she surmised this was the captain. Connor wore a wide grin and bright eyes. The date at the bottom read _ Winter, 2038 _ in a nearly perfect Cyberlife Sans font.   
A photo of a very large Saint Bernard, sleeping on a rug.   
A photo of Connor and his lieutenant at a food truck; Hank was ruffling Connor’s hair affectionately with one hand and holding a burger with the other.   
And then a curious little stand on his desk, one that hardly looked big enough for a miniscule dinner plate. She’d have to ask him about that later.   
  
“Connor.” A rough voice pulled Lyra from her inspection. She looked up and noticed Hank striding over to Connor with a set jaw and a tense expression. Connor frowned and leaned toward him.   
“Lieutenant, is everything alright?” Connor’s voice came soft and clear, and the lieutenant shook his head, eyeing a large office at the head of the room.   
“Not really, son. I -”   
The doors of the office burst open, revealing the same man that stood in the picture with Connor.   
“Detective Connor! My office!” He shouted before retreating back into the room. Connor and Hank exchanged a look.   
“What am I heading into, Hank?” Connor asked softly, and Hank only shook his head.   
“I’d just get your ass in there, kid.”   
Lyra stood, taking Connor’s hand, and she noticed his LED was blinking between red and yellow so rapidly that it almost seemed orange. He turned to her, looking more anxious than she’d ever seen him.   
“I’ll come with you,” Lyra murmured. Hank gave a look but stayed quiet, opting to sit down at the desk across from Connor’s instead. “We’ll go together.” Connor nodded and the two slowly made their way to the office at the front of the room, climbing the stairs side by side before silently slipping through the large glass doors of the office.   
  
Connor held the door for Lyra and she stood near them, feeling too anxious to sit down. Connor nodded respectfully to the man, who sat behind a name plate labelled _ Jeffery Fowler. _   
“Detective,” Fowler began. “Do you know why I called you here?”   
Connor shook his head.   
“No, sir.”   
“Recite the third paragraph of your code of ethics.”   
Lyra looked to Connor, who was starting to look extremely uneasy, but did as his captain asked in a clear, professional diction.   
  
“I will never act officiously or permit personal feelings, prejudices, animosities or friendships to influence my decisions. With no compromise for crime and with relentless prosecution of criminals, I will enforce the law courteously and appropriately without fear or favor, malice or ill will, never employing unnecessary force or violence, and never accepting gratuities.”   
  
“And your oath?”   
  
“I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of constable with fairness, integrity, diligence and impartiality, and that I will uphold fundamental human and android rights and accord equal respect to all people, according to law.”   
  
Fowler put his head in his hands and Lyra began to break out into a cold sweat, beginning to get an idea of what this was all about. Connor didn’t look anxious, but his LED was a dead giveaway - it was solid crimson, and the pit in Lyra’s stomach deepened. Fowler looked up, seeming almost exasperated.   
  
“I’m just gonna come out and say it: after the events of Capitol Park’s protest and the images shown today, not only on local but national news, we have no choice but to place you on paid suspension.”   
Lyra felt her eyes go wide and Connor _ blanched _ , eyebrows drawing tightly together. His lips pressed into a thin line and the _ shame _ in his eyes was almost too much for Lyra to bear.   
“You understand why, right?” Fowler asked, a tone of almost pity seeping into his voice.   
“Yes,” Connor replied mechanically, and Lyra could swear she saw his eyes go slightly glassy. “I understand. I am to remain impartial at all times, especially when on duty.”   
“Hand in your cuffs and your firearm to Lieutenant Anderson. They’ll be returned to you after your suspension is lifted. That’s all.”   
Connor nodded respectfully once more to Captain Fowler, even giving a slight bow, before turning on his heel and quickly striding out of the room.   
  
Lyra followed timidly, unable to find the words to say. Connor’s retreating form was stiff, robotic almost. It was hard to keep up with him; he was walking so quickly. _ His job means the world to him! _ She wanted to scream. _ Why are you doing this to him? _ They reached his desk and he stopped, Lyra nearly colliding with him at the sudden change in pace.   
“I’m heading to my locker for the items the captain mentioned,” Connor murmured, a robotic kind of composure in his voice, his back turned to Lyra. “I won’t be long.”   
“Okay,” She whispered, feeling tears burn at her eyes. Connor’s LED never left that cursed red as he turned and pulled a large coin from his pocket. A challenge coin, made specifically for the Detroit Police force. He thumbed it fondly, and his shoulders raised stiffly; he stayed like this for a few moments before placing it in the strange little stand she noticed on his desk earlier, then resumed his brisk pace through the office, leaving Lyra to stand alone.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i know i said i was taking a small break for labor day weekend but i just had to get this out of the way because i hate making my characters suffer so take this and cry about it bc i did  
i know this is super depressing but i figured it was a realistic outcome, but don't worry, now that neither of them have jobs they can just bone all the time right? *laughs nervously*
> 
> things are gonna start moving quicker now bc plot and chapters might take a little longer to release, but i'll try and stick to the update schedule when i can
> 
> love you all, see you on the 3rd


	13. Clandestine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clan·des·tine
> 
> adjective
> 
> kept secret or done secretively, especially because of illicit activity.

**Lakeview High Rise****  
****9:16:09 PM****  
****  
**Cool wind whistled between buildings and up the high rise, fluttering Connor’s hair over his forehead. The garden behind him was dark - someone had obviously forgotten to turn on the lights, but everything was dimly lit by the neon reflected from the surrounding buildings. Calls had been rolling in steadily from Lyra, but Connor - for the first time since they’d met - didn’t know what to say to her. The suspension, even though it was paid, hit Connor in a way he didn’t quite understand. He supposed it was a feeling akin to grief, or perhaps some deeper form of melancholy. _It’s what I was created to do. It’s my job. What use am I when I’m not there?__  
__  
_Connor, though the height seemed to be swallowing him whole, sat down quietly at the edge of the building, watching his feet dangle over the street seventy floors below. _Why am I here? Am I longing for a simpler time? A time when I didn’t have decisions to make? _Another call came in from Lyra and Connor rejected it, silencing his phone shortly after.  
  
Lyra. What a whirlwind everything had been since he’d met her, and that was only weeks ago. Connor’s experiences with intimacy leading up to their meeting were dubious at best, brought about by loneliness and a need for connection. Apparently, even androids experienced touch starvation. But with Lyra, it was something new - there was more. There was desire, but more.   
  
_I love her, _Connor realized. _That is the ‘more’. _The revelation was welcome, but it only made things more complicated. Taking part in the Capitol Park protest had felt _right_, as if he was meant to fight for this movement. In the faces of the countless couples at the protest, he saw Lyra and himself. But that was the reasoning for his suspension, wasn’t it? Connor surmised that he couldn’t take part in any more of these demonstrations without being terminated. The soft sound of footfalls on the concrete broke Connor from his reverie.  
  
“...Hello, Rooftop Girl.” Connor mumbled without turning, and he heard Lyra’s relieved sigh; could almost picture her expression even without seeing her.  
“I looked for you everywhere, Connor.” Lyra breathed, and a hint of exasperation had entered her voice. “What are you doing here?” A strange warmth spread through Connor and he stood, turning to look back at her. She was striking in the low light, gazing at him with concern, her hair blowing softly from her face.   
  
“I have a decision to make, Lyra. And either way, I’m going to lose.” Lyra’s eyes held so much care, so much affection, that Connor had to fight against wrapping her in his arms. _I love her._  
“What are you talking about?” She asked, frowning and taking a step toward him.   
“You’re important to me,” Connor started, his voice coming quiet. “And I want to take part in the protests together. I want us to be able to…” He trailed, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “To…”  
Lyra tilted her head and looked at him expectantly.   
“To…?”  
“If we stay together, someday, I... I would like to at least have the option to get married.” Connor could tell immediately that he’d been too forthcoming again. Lyra’s eyes flew wide and her cheeks reddened almost immediately. Her eyes snapped to the ground shyly.   
“You’re saying you wanna protest because of _me_?”  
“Yes. But… If I do, I will most assuredly be terminated from my position at the police department. I have to decide, and…” Connor looked out over the skyline of Detroit once more. Soft blues and yellows illuminated the city. _Beautiful. _“I… I don’t know how I possibly can.”  
  
“Oh, Connor,” Lyra murmured, stepping close and pulling him into a soft embrace. Connor couldn’t fight it any longer; he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face into her hair, the softness of it tickling his cheeks. He closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling. He sighed softly, desire blooming slow and warm in his chest as he held her tighter. “I’m so sorry.”  
“It’s alright,” He whispered into her hair, “I’ll be alright, if I can keep holding you this way.” Connor felt her laugh softly into his neck, reaching to twine her fingers in his hair, and suddenly he was overcome with peace. _If only for this moment, I am alright. __  
__  
_The two settled into a gentle silence, listening to the cold wind whistling around them. Autumn had settled into Detroit and the nights were colder now, but their embrace was warm and soft and Connor felt as if he were wrapped in a blanket. Slowly, he tipped his head to press his lips to hers - soft and sweet and full of that _‘more’_ that had eluded Connor for what seemed like forever. Lyra sighed quietly into the kiss and pressed herself tightly against him, reaching under his arms to his shoulder blades to clutch at his jacket. A quiet moan escaped her and Connor couldn’t help but to respond in kind, feeling that familiar spark of electricity within his circuitry, the burn of arousal tucked neatly within his spine. His hands found her hips and gripped them tightly as he deepened the kiss, slotting his mouth against hers at _just _the right angle to get her to release another soft, breathy moan against his lips. He detected her minute movements, only visible with something akin to an analyzer: the ever so slight buck of her hips, her basal temperature increase, her fingers twitching in the folds of his jacket, her breathing and heart rate accelerating.   
  
Connor brought a hand to the back of Lyra’s neck, holding her with a soft, yet commanding hand - _don’t stop kissing me, I need more - _and began to walk slowly forward, backing Lyra to the wicker couches at the garden square. She wobbled and stumbled a couple times, but they finally reached the couches without even so much as breaking the kiss and Connor gently worked her backward to lie down. It was only then that they broke the kiss - Lyra, staring up at him with a thick blush and her warm breath panting softly into his face; Connor, in almost the same state, staring down at her.   
“Connor, I need you,” Lyra whispered, her eyes lidded and conveying a stark vulnerability; her hands tightening in the sleeves of his jacket. He had to subdue a full-body shiver at her words, his eyebrows drawing tightly together. “Please.”   
Electricity crackled at the base of his spine and he stifled a whine, climbing over her to rest a knee between her thighs and his hands on either side of her face before leaning to press hot, open-mouthed kisses and swipes of his tongue to her neck. The vibration of her quiet, pleasured sounds reached his lips and he clawed gently at the wicker of the couch, the sensuality of it all beginning to burn him in the best of horribly intolerable ways. It was getting harder to be gentle, to control himself, he realized. The _need_ washing over him in waves was almost painful.   
  
“_Lyra,” _Connor breathed into the skin of her collarbone, and her name felt like a prayer and a curse all wrapped into one. She gasped and clasped at his shoulder blades tighter, almost clawing at him, and he couldn’t help but groan and bite down onto the nape of her neck, relishing in the hard shudder and choked whimper it earned from her. Lyra reached to tangle her fingers in his hair, sending pleasant prickles over his scalp and down his neck. Rise in temperature, rise in pulse. The information came to him steadily, driving Connor more into what he could very aptly describe as madness; possession. He felt himself beginning to pant against her skin. The arch of her hips against his thigh, the small twitches that jolted through her frame as the friction reached her, the breath that caught in her throat. _Oh, but she is intoxicating. __  
__  
_Growing impatient and longing for more of her responses, Connor leaned back and peeled her shirt over her stomach, scattering kisses and nips over her soft sides, delighting in her needy whimpers and feeling her squirm under his lips.   
“Please,” She begged again, barely audible. “Please, Connor, I can’t take it anymore - _ah!” _The wanton squeal that left her as he bit at her through her bra was _delicious _and a shudder wracked through him. A low growl left his lips as he repeated the action, and he was surprised at himself momentarily at the primal feeling that had consumed him. Lyra was now steadily grinding herself against his thigh, whining and letting out small, desperate sounds consistently, and the tension in him seemed to build faster than he could compensate for - and everything finally _snapped_.   
  
With a ragged breath Connor broke away and hurriedly leaned back on his knees, working at his belt; Lyra seemed to know exactly what he’d had in mind and didn’t seem to disagree, for she immediately set to work on unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down enough for him. Connor slid the belt from his jeans with a soft _snap _and Lyra whimpered; he chanced a glance at her and her brows were drawn together, eyes lidded, a thick flush blooming over her cheeks and neck. She panted heavily and even trembled slightly - the picture of lust. Connor felt his mouth slip open at the sight of her and he let out a shaky breath before slipping his jeans down carefully over his waist and leaning over her once more. He barely had the wherewithal to speak.  
“Are you sure -” He began, only to be cut off by Lyra’s mouth, hungry against his own, slipping her tongue over his lips as if she wanted to eat him alive. _I would be fine with that,_ his mind snarked before Connor bit quite harshly at her bottom lip, drawing a desperate moan from her.   
  
Finding no need for ceremony any longer - and quite relieved for it - Connor slipped into her with ease, bottoming out immediately and pulling a heated moan from both of them. Lyra grasped tightly at his hair and he keened, feeling heat rush to his face, and buried his face into her neck, closing his eyes tightly.   
“You feel so -” Lyra began to speak but Connor couldn’t wait any longer, drawing out and quickly thrusting back into her, watching her face contort in pleasure and watching the desperate moan fall from her lips. “_Good…” _She finished breathlessly, and Connor groaned, biting his lip. He immediately settled into a deep, slow thrusting pattern, knowing full well that he was hitting just the right angle with practiced precision every time by the way Lyra whined and trembled in his hold, angling her body to meet every snap of his hips. Connor couldn’t fight the sounds that fell from his own lips any longer; he realized he was moaning; quite loudly, in fact, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the way Lyra’s legs wrapped around his waist, the way she keened every time he sunk into her, the tightening of her around him, the soft wet sounds of skin against skin puncturing the air.   
  
“Whose are you?” The question fell as a hoarse growl from his lips, his teeth bared, almost before he realized he was speaking, and Lyra let out a cry when he sunk all the way into her, thrusting deeply and quickly to punctuate.   
“_Yours!” _She practically sobbed, her body arching, her eyes shut tight and gripping the arm of the couch so tightly it turned her knuckles white. “_I’m yours!” __  
_The white hot surge of pleasure that shot through him was incredible and he felt a desperate moan bubble from his throat, snapping his hips into a pace that would tire _any _human within minutes. _Show her you’re _**_more_**_ than human, _his mind conjured, and he moaned again, leaning to rest his head against her shoulder. So close, so impossibly close.   
“Connor, I’m - I’m going to -” Lyra clawed at his shoulders, digging her nails into him and another bolt of electricity shot through him. He met her eyes, which seemed to glow in the dark.  
“Come.” Connor commanded lowly, moving to grip at her hip tightly with one hand, and she buried her face into his neck with a high, breathless cry. Another two harsh thrusts of his hips and she _did, _arching her hips and tightening so impossibly tight around him that he had no choice but to follow just behind her with a long, low groan rumbling from his throat; systems overclocking, wires seeming to burn, binary flashing rapidly behind his eyes for a few seconds before expelling an incredible amount of heat. He felt himself spill inside her and became vaguely aware of an overheat warning that had popped up sometime in the last couple of minutes.   
  
They lay in the dark of night together for a little while, both slowly recovering, before Connor spoke in a voice he almost didn’t recognize as his own; it was quiet and almost timid.   
“I love you, Lyra,” He whispered.  
“I love you, too, Connor,” Came her gentle reply, full of affection; for the second time in two days, Connor felt tears gather at the corners of his eyes as relief washed over him.   
  


  
**11:28:26 PM** ****  
****  
“I think I’ve found a solution,” Lyra declared, softly tousling Connor’s hair between her fingers. He looked up at her from her lap, raising a brow.   
“A solution for what?” He asked, moving his hand to cup her cheek affectionately. She smiled down at him, full of love, and his heart soared.   
“Your little problem earlier,” Lyra smirked. “You said you were going to have to lose something - either the protests or the force.” Connor sighed softly, feeling the same hopelessness from earlier in the evening begin to drift into his mind.   
“And?”   
“You’re gonna be my behind-the-scenes. You keep your job at the DPD and I manage the protests.”   
“Lyra -”   
“And before you tell me it’s too dangerous, you’re gonna make sure you’re posted at every one.”   
Connor thought about this, looking off toward the greenery of the garden before looking back up at her.   
“I don’t see how I’m participating all that much, though.”   
“The deal _ is _ ,” Lyra’s eyes shone with mischief, and Connor couldn't help but brush gently at her hair lovingly. “You’re gonna be behind-the-scenes. _ You _ are gonna provide me with all the legal intel to keep the protestors from getting arrested or fined.”   
Connor sat up, feeling hope bloom in his chest. His eyes went wide.   
“I can provide you with designated times and locations; permits, lawful assembly clauses.”   
“Precisely.”   
Pride tugged Lyra’s lips into a crafty smile, one that Connor couldn’t help but return, his excitement growing.   
“Not only that, but once I give you all of that, I can be posted to make sure it goes off without any problem. I can keep you safe!”   
“Yes! But we gotta keep it on the down low.”   
Seemingly at the same time, they threw their arms around each other. Connor grinned, feeling a laugh bubble up from his chest.   
“Of course. Even when abiding by the law, it would be possible to lose my job. It will be a secret - oh, Lyra, my love - you’re so very clever.”   
  
The stars above created beautiful patterns, and the two below hatched a plan.   
Things were going to change in Detroit.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm writing smut from an android's pov is quite difficult
> 
> also WE GOT OURSELVES A PLAN >:)  
I gotta admit i was a little worried i'd backed myelf into a corner bc i realized that with connor being suspended he wouldn't be able to take part in protests or he'd actually get fired  
but then this little idea came to me and i was so excited
> 
> hope this makes up for the sadness last chapter; we're almost done guys! this turned into something way bigger than i thought it would hah ;;;
> 
> welcome back lovelies, and I'll see you all as soon as i can get the next chapter cranked out; once again, they'll start coming a little slower now bc big plot things <3


	14. Author's Notice

Hey guys.

Rooftop Girl is going to be going through somewhat long patches with no updates for the foreseeable future.

Last night, i went through a really horrible break-up and will need to be finding another job and another place to live.  
My mental state is the lowest it's ever been, and I can't realistically write a happy relationship right now.

However, I will still give it my best to make sure I write a little bit each day for you guys if I feel good enough to, and if I'm not busy with looking for another job/housing.

Thank you for understanding,

Kelsey (Chihua)


	15. Heedful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heed·ful  
/ˈhēdfəl/
> 
> adjective
> 
> aware of and attentive to.

**[Two Months Later]**

****  
****  
Connor’s suspension finally ended with the prosecution of the Capitol Park protest gunman, and it had been such a relief for Lyra to see Connor in uniform again. Connor himself seemed to beam with pride, full of new life and vigor for the force - and to begin on their plan. The first day he went back to work, everyone seemed to welcome him with open arms; even Detective Reed gave him a soft nod and a two finger salute as he found his way back to his desk. Lyra noticed he’d taken possession once again of his DPD challenge coin, often skirting it over his fingers in idle moments.    
  
Connor wasn’t the only one back to work - Lyra had gotten a part-time job at a local diner on the outskirts of downtown Detroit, waitressing in the mornings and afternoons. Not the most exciting position, but it was easy and she had experience with food service. Connor had expressed his worries at the time ( _ “Are you sure you want to work in food service again? You said it wasn’t good for your mental health.”)  _ but Lyra reassured him that it was only temporary and that she’d get something better after the tips came rolling in at a steady pace. And it wasn’t all bad; often times, Connor and Hank would visit for breakfast and a cup of coffee - Hank, doing the debriefing on a case; Connor, stealing salacious glances at Lyra as she refilled Hank’s coffee. Those days were her favorite.   
  
And both of them had their hands full with the protest scene. Lyra spent nearly every moment not at work or with Connor to scope out potential android/human couples, or ones she’d seen at the protest, and make connections with them. Phone numbers, addresses, e-mail; anything that would make it easier to contact them when the time came for another rally.   
Connor, diligent and industrious, set to work on researching protest materials: permit requirements, designated places and times for lawful assembly, loopholes and lesser-known ways to avoid fines and arrests. All after hours, of course: many a night came when Connor worked into the wee hours of the morning only to show at her door and both of them would collapse into Lyra’s bed, too tired or overworked to do anything but sleep (or, in Connor’s case, rapidly fall into a welcome stasis). Lyra spent much of her time exhausted because of this, and it seemed even the infallible Connor was easier prone to moments of far-away stares and glazed eyes. No one could accuse either of being anything but workhorses. They agreed that they’d turned into the quintessential example of a power couple.    
  
They bonded over caffeine and cigarettes, literature spread out on either Lyra’s or Connor’s coffee tables, both of them wrapped in blankets and half asleep. On the nights that either of them spent the night at each other’s apartment, Lyra would wake, wandering drowsy out of the bedroom and Connor would always be awake first, already out in the living room, poring over more research and protest plans with a handsome frown of concentration pulling his brows together; chocolate hair mussed and curled, wrinkled white tee and dark sweats, head resting in his hand. No matter how stone-faced he seemed in these moments, there was always another cup of coffee on the opposite side of the table waiting for her. Lyra thought dryly that if she stopped drinking coffee now, she might die from withdrawals - and that Connor had never looked so  _ human _ .    
  
“It turns out that as long as you stay on the sidewalk - obeying traffic and pedestrian signals, of course - the protest is constitutionally protected, even without a permit.” Connor called from the kitchen table as Lyra pinned her hair up in the bathroom.   
“So, if we were to march down, say, Woodward Avenue… as long as we were on sidewalks, it’d be okay?” Lyra called back; she slipped her apron over her head and tied it, giving a quick inspection before walking back down the hall to meet Connor at the table. She took a sip from her coffee and sat it back on the table. Connor glanced up at her before looking back down at the paperwork.   
“Your hair looks cute that way,” He murmured quietly, and Lyra couldn’t help but grin. “And yes, as long as you aren’t using any kind of sound systems or wandering into traffic. It has to be as orderly as possible.”    
“Sounds doable,” Lyra chirped, and Connor gave her a soft, reproachful look, tilting his head slightly.   
“Remember,” He chided lowly, solemnly. “Even the most organized of plans can be mislaid. Make it very clear that it  _ must _ be organized. Don’t give law enforcement any reason,  _ any at all _ , to take action - because they will, given the chance.” Connor’s words were measured and Lyra took the hint:  _ ‘listen to me closely’ _ .   
“I will,” She nodded, maintaining eye contact with him. Connor seemed satisfied that she paid close enough attention before he rose from the chair, reaching back to ruffle his own hair with a soft sigh.   
“I should get going,” He gave her a sweet smile before pulling on his jacket, which had been draped over his chair, and pinning his badge to its left breast. “Hank needs me early today for a case.” He stretched even though it was unnecessary and Lyra thought once again how strikingly human he’d become. Or, maybe just more comfortable? Casual? Lyra wasn’t sure.   
  
It was hard to tell the difference more and more often lately, and she wondered if he had picked up habits from her that made it so. Just last night she’d found him cross-legged on the floor at her coffee table with one of her cigarettes, lit, dangling from his lips -  _ “It isn’t addictive for me, but it reminds me of you.”  _ \- and he’d started wearing cologne very recently (not that she was complaining; it was a woodsy, sensual scent and she hoped he’d never stop). Dimly, she wondered if he’d rather be human.    
Connor strode to the door as he knotted his tie and pulled it smooth, stopping briefly to check his appearance in a mirror that hung on her wall at the doorway. He turned his head this way and that with an appraising expression before turning to her and giving her a soft grin.    
“Have a good day,” He murmured fondly, and Lyra followed in his footsteps to give him a quick hug.   
“You, too,” She replied, kissing his cheek (to which he gave a soft laugh) and leaning back to smooth his jacket. “Be safe.”    
“I love you, Lyra.” Connor murmured after a gentle pause, gazing at her almost reverently, and she could swear she saw stars collect in his eyes. Lyra beamed, looking down at his shoes.    
“I love you, too.” She mumbled, grinning despite herself, and he leaned forward to give her forehead a quick peck before opening the door and exiting with a gentle wave and a handsome smile.  _ So domestic.  _ _   
_ Lyra pulled her purse onto her shoulder and drank the last of her coffee before heading out herself.

  
  


**Detroit Police Department - Precinct #52** ****  
**Investigative Offices** ****  
**8:00:00 AM** ****  
****  
The plans were coming together, it seemed. The march on Woodward Avenue was their next target; Lyra was busy with collecting protestors and Connor had given her the intel. However nervous he was inside, he tried not to show it.  _ Lyra needs you to be strong,  _ he thought to himself more and more often lately. It was pleasing to feel needed by her; to protect her.    
  
“Are we going to Motor City Diner today, Lieutenant?” Connor turned to Hank, hopeful. It dawned on him that he already missed Lyra, even being apart for only forty five minutes - at most. Hank raised a brow at him and Connor tilted his head, giving the best ‘kicked puppy’ look he could manage. Hank let out a grizzled sigh before rising from his desk, Connor doing so immediately after with the enthusiasm of a dog.    
“Yeah, I guess I could use a bite, but you just wanna see your girl. Don’t ya?”   
Connor couldn’t help the sheepish grin that tugged the corners of his mouth upwards, and Hank chuckled before swiping his keys from the desk, giving them a toss. Connor caught them effortlessly. “Let’s go; you drive, I don’t feel like it. You gonna get a little sip of coffee?”   
“Maybe so. I’ve been enjoying the taste more and more as of late.”    
“Just don’t fuck up your weird robo-stomach, got it?”   
“Got it.”

  
**Motor City Diner** ****  
**8:30:00 AM** ****  
****  
Connor couldn’t help but watch as Lyra weaved around guests and tables with two  _ full  _ trays in her hands, raised over her head as if they weighed almost nothing. Adorable pink apron, hair pinned up in a full bun, sharp eyeliner, balancing coffee mugs and breakfast plates - and giving him the flirtiest wink all the while. Connor felt admiration bloom within him and was helpless to do anything but give her a wide grin, full of pride. The diner was busy today, the air clouded with cigarette smoke and smelling of coffee and breakfast.  _ Nostalgic  _ was the word brought to Connor’s mind, all of it taking him to a time whence he couldn’t possibly have lived. He decided he very much enjoyed this atmosphere.    
  
Soon enough, Lyra flitted to them, balancing a tray on her hip. The proximity of a coffee pot - approximately 150 degrees, his mind offered anxiously - to her hip was enough to make Connor seize up very slightly.    
  
“What can I get you boys?” She grinned, tilting her head, and Connor could just make out the swell of her chest, the curve of her hips cocked to the side, shapely thighs peeking from under her apron.  _ I have a few things you could get me,  _ he thought, and snorted quietly; Hank raised a brow at him and Connor shook his head, silently telling him to disregard it. Lyra gave a similar look, but more chastising and with an almost salacious grin - as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and was enjoying it thoroughly.    
  
“I’ll, uh… I’ll get some coffee, black. And the two egg special, sub bacon.” Hank sighed gruffly, obviously fed up with the strange, silent conversation developing between the two. Lyra repeated the order back to herself before turning to Connor.   
“How ‘bout you, hot stuff?” She made eyes at him and Connor had to fight an appreciative snicker behind his hand - again, something she definitely noticed.   
“I’ll have a little coffee as well, please...  _ miss _ .” He gave her a suggestive flick of his brow and an evocative smirk to which she giggled, flushing ever so slightly and cocking her hip to the left. Hank groaned, placing his head in his hands.   
“Will you guys get a  _ room _ ? Fuck.”    
Lyra belted a laugh and Connor only grinned, winking at her.   
“Maybe after she’s done with work.” He intoned, giving another playfully seductive gaze.    
Lyra gave him a mixed expression of surprise and delight and he heard Hank’s head hit the table with a dull thud and a clatter of the silverware.    
“Fuck  _ off _ , both of you!”    
Lyra chuckled, nodding to both of them with a soft grin and retreating to the kitchen, pinning up the order before bustling off to take care of other customers.   
  
After recovering from secondhand embarrassment, Hank ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward over the table, voice lowered.   
“You’d do pretty much  _ anything _ for that girl, huh?”   
Connor tore his gaze from Lyra and tilted his head, giving Hank a quizzical look.    
“What do you mean?” He asked, and felt an inexplicable sense of dread after Hank gave him a solemn look.   
“I saw that file you had tucked all neat under your stuff earlier.” The lingering sense of disquiet Connor felt a moment ago turned into a hot ball of anxiety, dropping straight through him to settle in his gut.  _ Deny it? Be honest? Which? _ __   
“...I don’t know what you’re talking about, lieutenant,” Connor murmured, shame prickling at his neck. He and Hank did not lie to each other. “I keep many files on my desk at once.”   
Hank leaned in closer and lowered his voice further, almost to a whisper. It was difficult to hear him over the sound of clattering dishes and the muted chatter of the diner patrons. Connor almost felt intimidated.   
“How ‘bout I make it a little  _ clearer, _ ” He murmured, and Connor had to suppress an ashamed shiver. “How ‘bout I specify that I’m talking about  _ protest permits,  _ Connor? Huh?” Then came a pregnant pause as Connor thought about what to say next, unable to break eye contact with Hank. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Lyra giving a slightly worried frown in their direction from across the diner.   
“What I’m doing isn’t underhanded or criminal - in fact, it’s our responsibility as officers of the  _ law. _ ” Connor said this with a bit of a bite and immediately regretted it. The electricity in Hank’s eyes crackled with a subdued rage.    
“You won’t be happy ‘til you get yourself  _ fired _ , will ya?” Hank bristled lowly.   
“I’ll do what I have to.” Connor shot back quietly, feeling his own impatience beginning to boil hotly under his skin.    
“ _ You fuckin' idiot  _ -” Hank’s lips pulled into a sneer and then Lyra was there, suddenly, clearing her throat. Both of the men’s heads snapped up just in time to see her set down two mugs and Hank’s breakfast plate.    
  
“Everything okay over here?” She smiled nervously, eyes darting between the two. Hank gave a silent, gruff nod, looking down at his plate as she poured their coffee. Connor immediately took a sip from his mug, eyeing her over the rim with a look he only hoped would translate as  _ don’t ask _ . Lyra nodded silently to him and gave him an apologetic glance before turning away to continue working. As soon as she was out of earshot, Hank gave Connor a softer look of his own, leaning forward once more.    
“Listen,” He muttered. “I know what you think you gotta do, and I won’t stop ya. I’m not gonna rat on ya, either. Just be more careful. You’re within the confines of law, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire ya.” He began to dig into his plate, seemingly finished with the conversation. Connor chanced one more glance at Lyra over his mug and the trepidation with which she met his eyes was almost palpable.    
  
_ Yes,  _ Connor thought.  __ We will have to be more careful - everywhere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much all of you for your love and support on my author's notice. <3


	16. Pride

**Crestfall Apartment Complex** ****   
**Apartment #106** ****   
**6:23:00 AM** ****   
****   
As with many nights before, Lyra had fallen into an exhausted sleep next to Connor in her bed after a particularly long debriefing on the next day’s protest. She nestled in his arms, her head tucked neatly into his neck - and fell asleep immediately. Morning, in her humble opinion, came far too soon.   
Usually, Connor was awake before her; this morning, however, his bare arms were wrapped solidly around her waist and his head was resting gently on her chest as the first faint rays of sunrise painted themselves over her comforter. Blearily and with a dazed sigh, Lyra blinked down at him and was glad she had:   
Connor’s eyelashes were long against his cheeks, his smattering of freckles were made darker in the almost neon light of the orange sunrise; his lips were parted ever so slightly and his chocolate hair fell into soft almost-curls over his face. A wave of what she could only describe as  _ bliss _ washed over Lyra and she couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at her lips.  _ He seems so… content.  _ Connor’s LED slowly pulsed from dim to bright blue, in a rhythm that was very similar to his simulated breathing.    
  
“Connor?” Lyra breathed, keeping her voice quiet. It was a moment that felt as if it could be ruined by speaking too loudly. Gently, she raked her fingers through his hair, the fluffy strands curling slightly around her fingers, earning a soft hum of contentment from him. “Hon?”   
Connor stirred, looking very human; he buried his face into her chest with a deep sigh and rumbled a quiet groan. Lyra felt a hot flush bloom over her cheeks at the sound.    
“Still in stasis,” He mumbled, muffled and warm into her skin. “This is what we’re doing. We’re sleeping.” Lyra couldn’t fight the quiet laugh that bubbled from her throat.   
“Sweetie, we gotta get ready for work.”   
“Nah. No. Not happening. Staying right here. We have thirty minutes.”   
“Babe -”   
Connor hummed in a firm staccato and buried his face further into Lyra’s chest, prompting her to giggle. He chuckled softly in response and heaved a sigh, pulling himself to a sitting position and giving her a lopsided smile. Lyra grinned, tilting her head. “What?”   
“I’m just happy.” He sighed softly, looking wistful.    
_ What a sap.  _ Lyra gave him a playful shove back into the pillow - earning a  _ handsome _ , joyous laugh from Connor - and rolled herself from the bed to get ready.   
“Come on, goofball.”   
“Wait, wait,” Connor finished laughing quietly, rising to a sitting position after removing a throw pillow from his face. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” Lyra turned back to him, raising a brow and cocking her hip.    
“What’s up?”   
“Well,” Connor began, folding his hands in his lap. “We’ve been sleeping over a lot, right?”   
“Uh-huh.”   
“And I don’t know about you, but I rather enjoy it.”   
Lyra smiled; yes - the coffee in the mornings, the late nights, the exhausted cuddling. The sense of comfort at seemingly all times when he was around. The sense of security. Seeing him off to work, or going together.  _ I never liked living with people. People never liked living with me.  _ The thought dimmed her happiness considerably. Hello, anxiety. Hello, self-sabotage.   
“I… I like it,” Lyra mumbled, looking off, able to tell where the conversation was heading. Connor didn’t seem to notice the trepidation; stars were in his eyes and he leaned forward marginally.    
  
“Then,” He murmured quietly, with so much adoration in his eyes that Lyra almost couldn’t take it. “How about we make it permanent?” Something in Lyra seemed to give a figurative sigh.   
“Connor...” She mumbled, and immediately his brows knit gently together.   
“Too much?” He questioned quickly, stiffening. “Too soon? I’m sorry, I -”   
“No, no, I -”   
  
“I really love you.” “I just love you so much.”    
  
They’d spoken at the same time; both of their eyes went wide, both of their eyebrows shot up. Immediately, the both of them blushed. The room went quiet and Connor fidgeted as Lyra sat on the edge of the bed near him. It was he who spoke first, after a long pause.   
“Why would loving me stop you from wanting to move in together?” He tilted his head - not taking it personally, but genuinely curious. Lyra was reminded once more how grateful she was for his logical perspective, and her heart swelled.    
“No, it’s just… I’m afraid of getting too comfortable and then…”   
“And then I leave?”   
_ Nailed it, baby.  _ Lyra heaved a soft sigh and couldn’t help but meet his eyes, unable to find something to say. Connor seemed to ponder this silent confirmation, fidgeting once more with his hands before scooting closer, nodding in confirmation and looking a bit more determined.   
  
“Alright, how about this, then? Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, we live separately. Thursday and Friday with alternating weekends, we stay together. You keep your boundaries and private time, your security, and we still get to experience living together without having to fear it.”   
Connor, in his seemingly infinite patience and understanding.  _ Connor _ , sitting there in a white t-shirt and fluffed hair, with no less affection in his eyes than at the start of this conversation. Lyra’s resolve crumbled, and though his plan was a good one, it could’ve been the look in his eyes that convinced her. Despite herself, she grinned widely, and he returned it tentatively.   
  
“Sounds  _ perfect, _ ” She smiled warmly. Connor leaned forward to kiss her forehead with renewed vigor and practically  _ leaped  _ from the bed, prompting a surprised giggle from Lyra.   
  
“Perfect! I’m so excited. I’ll clear a drawer for you when I get home, and you can put some of your hair stuff on my bathroom vanity, and we’ll get the travel-sized shampoo and conditioner for you, and some of your favorite coffee in the kitchen...” He continued like this even as he strode into the living room, out of sight and almost out of earshot, and Lyra couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. 

**Woodward Avenue** ****   
**Downtown Detroit, Michigan** ****   
**5:30:00 PM** ****   
****   
The day of reckoning had come, and even with the wonderful results of the morning, Connor admitted to himself that he felt… nervous. The protest was meticulously planned; his attention to detail and knowledge of the law, Lyra’s fervor and drive for justice. He’d even planned out his assignments to line up perfectly with the time and location. It was, in Lyra’s words,  _ kismet.  _ Connor insisted to himself that this was true.    
  
He could already see the small group of protestors down the street from his cruiser - the group had just begun to form and, sure enough, was quickly directed onto the sidewalk by Lyra, who was dressed in bright blues, powdered blues, and white accents - the newly adopted colors for the movement. Electric blue, to represent androids; white for hope, peace, and humanity; powdered blue to represent the mix of the two. His heart soared with pride, watching Lyra shout to and direct the crowd, chanting an unknown mantra with her arm raised, hand balled into a gentle fist. The protestors behind her began to pick it up and it came clearer to him now:   
_ “Love is alive! We are alive!”  _ As if his heart couldn’t feel any lighter. As if his pride had no bounds. A soft, affectionate  _ oh  _ left his lips and awe overtook him.    
  
Single file and drawing a crowd, they marched the sidewalk - songs erupting from the back of the group, the same mantra bubbling from the front, with Lyra. A few others joined the group and with the tenacity of a true leader Lyra directed them immediately ( _ ‘Stay at the sidewalk! No arrests today! _ ”). They drew closer, close enough for Lyra to beam at him through her constant rallying - and Connor couldn’t help but smile widely back, wishing desperately that he could tell her just how proud he was of her in this moment. Instead, he gave her a solid nod, one she returned before he fell into step with the group, letting himself fall back to about the middle.   
  
Some of the naysayers were repelled by a uniformed officer with his hand on his holster - others were only spurred on further, and he heard a far-off shout:  _ “He was at the other one in Capitol Park!” _ __   
Lyra looked back to him then in mild alarm, and Connor shook his head sharply.  _ Focus on your objective. Don’t mind it.  _ She seemed to understand and resumed her rallying with renewed fervor, and Connor knew it was just as much for him as it was for all of them. They all continued down the sidewalk, very organized, and still drawing more protestors as they went. Lyra pulled a thick, silver tube from her backpack and expanded it. Much longer now, she held it at her shoulder and a large flag unfurled: neon blue, powdered blue, and white - in a beautiful, vertical gradient. Connor walked beside the group with his head held high, his strides powerful.   
  
Citizens stopped and stared where they were - some looking angry, others, awestruck. Some joined in and some rallied against. The best part of the counterprotest was that they didn’t know to stay on the sidewalk - Connor immediately clamped down on the small group that had formed.   
“Move from the street or you will be fined on behalf of the Detroit Police Department! Those deviating from the sidewalk are participating in an illegal gathering and therefore must disperse immediately!” Connor shouted, intimidating; they cowered and scattered like mice. Those who did not disperse or drew closer in defiance, getting grabby and somewhat violent with the peaceful members of the protest, instantly found themselves on the receiving end of the intense, noisy buzzing of his stun gun - sharp and biting in the air, lighting up his navy uniform with white light even in direct sun. Connor was only clicking it as a warning, but several protestors’ heads whipped to face him, including Lyra’s. Even though no one was actually stunned, the warning was effective in chasing off the belligerent few.    
  
Lyra beamed at him and turned again to face forward, and Connor was secretly very satisfied.  _ Take that,  _ he thought, and raised a smug brow at the counterprotest that had scattered. They looked back at him in mild rage and a tangible sense of defeat surrounded them. It made the protest’s victory seem all the sweeter.   
  
It carried on like this - Lyra directing new and old protestors, herding them onto the sidewalk as a sheepdog would with her charges; Connor protecting them and keeping civilians in line, all while keeping a close eye on Lyra. Each time a counterprotest rose, he nipped it before it got too large to handle. Songs and chants filled the air.    
  
Finally, they reached Capitol Park, and Connor barked the order for everyone to disperse, as they had reached the edge of their constitution-given area to protest. After giving the order, he gave a soft nod to the group, as if to say:  _ Good job - I’m proud of you all.  _ Lyra locked eyes with him and with one last shout -  _ “Love! Is! Alive!”  _ from the entire group, fists pumping with each word, they all broke apart and meandered back in separate directions to the city. All except for Lyra. She gave him a soft, meaningful smile, and he returned it.    
  
__ “I’m proud of you,”  He mouthed to her, and she puffed with satisfaction, eyes sparkling. Connor gave her one last nod before turning back from whence he came to find his cruiser.   
  
It was Thursday. He would be able to show her his appreciation later tonight.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys
> 
> sorry this chapter is so short; i've been upset about my lack of update and wanted to get somethin out to stay connected with y'all  
hopefully the next one will be longer and without as much of a wait!


	17. Reprieve

**Detroit Android Housing ** ****  
**Block #34; Apartment #6** ****  
**8:00:00 PM ** ****  
****  
With the success of the day’s protest came the first evening at Connor’s minimalist apartment. Immediately upon her arrival, Connor had showered Lyra in praise; _ “You’ve done so well. I’m so proud of you. You looked incredible. Like Joan of Arc.” _   
And after that, he’d run to show her his progress on her half-move, dragging her by the hand from room to modest room. Shampoo and conditioner in the pristine shower, tiny can of hairspray, a small hairbrush and a few hair ties on the vanity, coffee and a box of granola bars in the kitchen - and lastly, an _ almost _ empty drawer of his dresser in the bedroom. In it was a white, rectangular clothing box.   
  
“What’s in there?” Lyra raised a brow, and moved to open it before he slapped his hand onto the lid, blushing faintly.   
“That’s… for later,” Connor intoned. “Something nice.” His blush darkened and she couldn’t help ribbing him a bit.   
“Oh? Did you pick out something lacy?” Connor looked off, abashed, and Lyra gaped at him with mock surprise. “Connor, I didn’t know you were like that! Naughty.”   
Connor sputtered, turning even redder and striding quickly, wordlessly, from the room.   
  
_ “I made dinner!” _ He deflected after a moment from the safety of the kitchen, and Lyra let out one last giggle before closing the drawer and trotting out of the room. She spied him fussing over the open oven, which was belching black smoke. “I… _ tried _ to make dinner.” He murmured, turning to her and tossing his hands gently. Lyra stifled a shriek, clapping her hands over her mouth, and Connor only grew more exasperated. Inside the oven sat what looked like a once succulent whole chicken - blackened and dried and smoldering - over charred vegetables, shrunken tiny with heat.   
“Oh, Connor -” Lyra snickered, giving him an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry.”   
“There’s no saving it, is there?” A kicked puppy expression.   
“No,” Lyra grimaced, glancing from the oven and back to him. Suddenly, a strident beeping filled the stillness of the apartment and they both yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air.   
“The smoke detector -” Connor flustered, slamming on the oven fan before grabbing a towel from a drawer close to the oven. He sprinted to the hallway, immediately fanning the alarm. Lyra squealed a laugh and dashed to his living room windows, yanking open the blinds and throwing open the glass, fanning the smoke out into the autumn chill with her hands.   
“Oh my god -” She was almost doubled over with laughter at this point, at the hilarity of the whole situation. Connor, a near perfect being: burning dinner to a crisp and setting off his smoke detector. “This is _ insane _ !” Another hysterical laugh bubbled from her stomach, which had started aching from the exertion of her near-constant giggling.   
“I’m _ so _ sorry,” Connor cried, LED creating a foggy yellow glow in the hallway; he was now fanning furiously at the still screaming smoke detector. “This really isn’t how this was supposed to go!” The cold from the windows was a welcomed reprieve from the smoky heat of his apartment and Lyra felt tears bead at her eyes - from the smoke, or from laughing so hard, she didn’t know. She opened his door and propped it, a rush of cool night air flooding the doorway.   
“Oh, baby, it’s okay! We’ll order some pizza!”   
“But pizza isn’t _ romantic _ or _ celebratory _ !”   
“It _ can _ be! Don’t worry so much!” 

**10:45:46 PM** ****  
****  
With pizza in tow and flaming chicken safely extinguished, the two had finally settled into the couch in front of Connor’s TV. The cool night air still wafted in from the open windows, but Lyra had gotten too chilly to keep the door open any longer. They watched an old movie about two high school sweethearts in the 1960’s solving their problems singing and dancing, ending with the female lead making a complete 180 in the end to keep the male lead’s interest. It was all somewhat shallow, as Connor pointed out near the end when everything seemed ‘resolved’.   
“The songs are catchy,” He muttered, “But the final message isn’t a very positive one.”   
Lyra knew what he was referring to, but decided she wanted to hear him talk about it.   
“How so?” She asked, leaning into him and setting her piece of pizza down onto its cardboard box; Connor snatched a piece of pineapple from it and popped it into his mouth.   
“Sandy was just fine the way she was - I’d say even prettier at the beginning than at the end. But the movie made it seem like she would lose Danny if she stayed that way. It’s a terrible message - _ change and be whoever you must to win his love, even if it isn’t who you truly are. _ She could have found someone that didn’t expect that of her.”   
Lyra couldn’t help but smile.   
“So, people shouldn’t have to change in relationships?” She asked, ever the devil’s advocate, and Connor shook his head with a soft frown, watching the credits roll.   
“They _ should _ change - people should _ always _ be focused on growing and changing for the better - but never _ only _ to suit their lover’s tastes. Let’s say it annoys you when I… hmm…” He paused, thumbing his chin, before nodding; Lyra chuckled softly, watching his figurative gears turn. “Let’s say it annoys you that I wake you early in the morning when I go to work. Well, of _ course _ I would change that. Or any _ other _ unhealthy or negative aspects of myself that affected you adversely. But I wouldn’t change the entirety of who I am the way Sandy did. It would be too much. Above all, _ to thine own self be true _ .”   
  
Lyra felt a keen sense of admiration - or maybe pride - well up in her chest and she leaned up to kiss Connor’s cheek. He’d come so far. Seemed so alive, so human. Full of insight and emotion; slightly naive but at the same time, so very wise. He gave her a gentle smile.   
“Have you ever changed that way for anyone?” He asked quietly, ever curious.   
“No,” Lyra stated firmly, and she could see Connor’s own admiration - it made her cheeks heat under his adoring gaze. “Never.”   
“Good,” He murmured, kissing her forehead. “I like you the way you are.”

"Sap," Lyra laughed, and he grinned into her hair. "You're so mushy."

"You like it," Connor quipped, before lowering his voice to a murmur and gliding his fingertips up her arm. "But if you'd like me to be less mushy, and more… _ hard, _I suggest you go digging in that box you found earlier." Lyra leaned back and raised a brow at him before rising from the couch. 

"Maybe I will." She quirked her brows at him and he sat back, giving her those pretty chocolate bedroom eyes and a wickedly pleased smirk. That expression stoked a dull fire in her stomach and she turned on her heel to stride into his bedroom. _ He knows he's cute, _ she thought as she glowered at the dresser drawer. _ What a monster I've created. _A soft laugh bubbled from her chest at the thought.

Lyra opened the drawer slowly, as if she was expecting a snake to leap at her from inside. There sat the offending white box and she gasped softly as she lifted the lid. A modest piece of lingerie - indeed, lace - sat neatly inside. White, with pretty powdered blue ribbons and accents. It looked like it could reach about mid-thigh, and almost could be considered chaste if not for the sheer lace of the bodice. A spontaneous grin stretched over her lips and she called to Connor as she began to change. 

"You like blue, huh?" 

"I believe it's my favorite color, but it looked so wonderful on you today." He replied from the living room, his voice faint and laced with a soft tremor - nervousness? Excitement? Maybe both?

"I think it's pretty," Lyra soothed, pulling it over her head. "You have good taste…" 

"Thank you." Connor called softly, and now that his embarrassment had been quelled, he sounded almost impatient. She gave a quick inspection in his full length mirror, propped against the wall. It hugged her form perfectly, soft ribbons trailing over her bare thighs and a sweetheart neckline dipping gently at her chest. Unabashedly proud, Lyra fluffed her hair before striding from the bedroom, swaying her hips a little more than usual. _ Powerful _ , she thought. _ I feel powerful. _

She made it to the living room and instantly his eyes snapped to her - only to widen a fraction under swiftly rising eyebrows. His eyes seemed to grow darker and he heaved a gentle sigh as they drew slowly up and down her form. Instinctually, Lyra looked away - the attention was nice, but she could never seem to hold up under close inspection. Her power melted away under his intense gaze. He rose slowly from the couch after switching off the television.

"You look so... _ enticing _ ," He muttered almost silently, eyes tracing the ribbons at her thighs, and his word choice sent a wave of goosebumps over her skin. "I _ knew _ this would look beautiful on you." Connor reached out slowly to caress a ribbon that hung from the garment between his thumb and index finger, dark eyes flicking to hers at the simple motion, the back of his hand grazing her thigh feather-light. Another wave of chills washed over her, this time manifesting into a gentle shudder as he palmed her thigh. Connor lifted the hem of the garment with an index finger and slowly, deliberately knelt at her feet; he trailed gentle, teasing kisses from her thigh to just under her ribs, and Lyra couldn't help but whimper silently, threading her fingers into his hair. 

"You like to tease..." She whispered shakily, already trembling slightly in his hold. Connor said nothing, only placing more kisses at her thighs - warm and soft and _ unhurried. _After a few moments of this, he finally spoke quietly. 

"It isn't my intention," He whispered against her skin. "I'd simply like to take my time." The notion sent a thrill through her and she tangled her fingers tighter into his hair, breathing a quiet moan. Unbothered, he returned to his task. It was getting harder and harder to stay standing and it felt like her knees would buckle at any moment; luckily, Connor took a gentle hold on her hips and pushed her into a sitting position on the edge of the couch arm - and immediately went back to softly licking and kissing at her thighs, ever so slowly (almost imperceptibly) moving inward. Lyra felt a tingle rise from the base of her spine and another soft moan bubbled in its place - Connor seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, running his hands slowly over her calves as he kissed closer and closer to her center. 

"Is this what you want?" He mumbled, giving her face a cursory glance before nipping gently at her hip - Lyra yelped - and licking it directly after in apology. "Hmm?" His hands roamed from her hips to her stomach to her breasts and back again and the arch in her back became harder and harder to fight. 

"Yes," Lyra breathed, expecting him to tease, but he obliged immediately, nudging her thighs apart with his elbow and sliding a finger into her gently; he leaned forward to lick at her just as slowly as he'd been doing everything else. The combined sensation - the stretch and periodic crook of his middle finger, the slick of his mouth and tongue - made Lyra's head fall back and her hips arch to him, her body crying out for more but completely at Connor's mercy. The prolonged, breathless moan (and the gasp that came after) that left her was surprising and she jolted slightly against him; he only hummed quietly in response and she somehow had the wherewithal to peek down at him. 

His eyelashes were pressed to his cheeks, eyes shut tightly but his face was serene save for the slight draw of his eyebrows and the steady yellow blink of his LED. It was a sort of quiet desperation that was in his expression and somehow it stoked the fire in her spine all the hotter. Dimly, she became aware that she was practically _ grinding _ rhythmically against Connor's mouth and fingers by this point, but it seemed as though neither of them cared. 

Connor worked her over slowly, _ torturously _ ; several minutes later, she was gripping his hair tightly, her short, keening moans coming uninhibited, angling her hips with every synchronized lap of his tongue and gentle thrust of his finger - both situated to graze perfectly, _ rhythmically _ against her most sensitive spots. Everything Connor did was expertly done; calculated. And Lyra could only let her head fall back, let her eyes slip closed, tumbling over the edge with a long, airy whine. During this time, the only thing she was conscious of was the incredible, delicious _ burn _ and Connor's soft, increasingly desperate moans from between her thighs - seemingly set free because of her climax - and his ministrations _ finally _picking up speed to work her through completely. Lyra let out a soft, shuddering sigh, collapsed against the arm of the couch, and watched Connor rise from his kneeling position on the floor. 

"If you can," His voice came hoarse, _ winded, _ even; his thin veil of control was failing him at last, and Lyra could see the desperate _ want _ behind his dark eyes. His pupils were blown wide, eyes lidded. "I'd very… _ very _ much like it if you could get on your hands and knees. On the couch."

Bonelessly, yet spurred on by Connor's request, Lyra slipped from the arm of the couch and onto her knees on the cushions, already feeling a tingle of anticipation as she felt him lean over her and give a soft, _extremely_ shaky exhale. The telltale sound of his belt buckle and he was taking in quick, anxious breaths, teasing himself hot against her through the lace of her lingerie and hissing quietly at the friction. It occurred to Lyra that she didn't think she'd ever seen him this way - so desperate, so vulnerable. So _worked_ _up_. 

Slowly, he sank into her from behind, immediately letting a high pitched whine fall from his lips and earning a deep shudder from Lyra. He felt _ hot _. Impossibly so. And swollen. The stretch was incredibly pleasing and when he bottomed out, another strangled whimper left his lips; the combination of his sounds and of the sensations were quickly bringing Lyra back to a bothered state once more and it wasn't long before she found herself panting softly under his increasingly swift thrusts. 

"You feel _ so _ good -" Connor was almost unintelligible through his moans but the message was well-received. Lyra arched her back and Connor groaned again, loudly, letting his head fall forward to her shoulder. " _ Please _ -" He whispered into her ear, digging his nails into her hips, and Lyra couldn't help moaning quietly herself at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

"_ Harder _ ," She whimpered and her arms gave out; she let herself fall forward but kept her back up for Connor - who quickly withdrew and thrusted back in, starting a pattern with what could only be described as fervor. It didn’t take long for Connor to become almost a complete _ mess: _keening and heaving sighs, balancing one hand at the arm of the couch and the other clasping her shoulder, nails biting the skin there just enough to sting and all the while drawing all the way out of her before bottoming back inside at a steady, swift pace. 

“Lyra, I’m -” Connor whispered, haltingly, as if he could barely get the words to come, and she pressed back into him with what she hoped was a silent confirmation. “I’m so close…” She moaned in response, burying her face into the cushion, but he wasn’t satisfied:  
“Tell me... tell me I can. Please, Lyra, _please_, I need it _so_ badly, _please, I love you so much_ -” Connor started to babble and Lyra couldn’t help but be mildly surprised through the haze, but what else could she do?  
“Come, baby. _Come for me_.” The words felt foreign on her lips but his reaction made it so worthwhile; instantly, he groaned and let his head fall to her shoulder, releasing a tremored gasp and giving one more thrust, holding himself there and stilling with one more keening whine. After a few moments, Lyra was dimly aware of moisture rolling down her right thigh in beads, and that he was panting softly above her, grazing his hands over her shoulders and her back lovingly.   
  
With that, she collapsed into the couch, completely sated and feeling exhausted. Connor chuckled softly and gently pulled from her before falling next to her, much in the same way: panting and closing his eyes, reaching to take her hand at his side.   
  
“What time is it?” Lyra mumbled, rolling to cling to Connor and resting her head on his chest.   
“1:00 am,” He replied drowsily, looking blissed out and three steps from stasis. “We should get to sleep.”  
“Don’t have to tell me twice. Tomorrow we plan the next protest: something bigger and better.”  
“I’m so proud of you, Lyra.”  
“Mushy.”  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too. Now let's go to bed!” Lyra playfully - albeit clumsily - launched a throw pillow at him that he blocked expertly with one arm, laughing quietly.  
  
“Lyra?”  
“Yeah, baby?”  
“...Did you ever close the windows?”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filler chapter before the next big thing! wanted to write some more fluff and smut between these two and i know ya'll thirsty android fuckers love it so why not
> 
> also connor burned dinner and it makes me giggle to think about
> 
> good night lovelies <3


End file.
